


Arc 2: Ground Zero

by dsa_archivist, EA Karras (Anne)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, due South
Genre: Alternate Universe, BDSM, Crossover, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Series: Mountie Slayer Arc 2, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-07-15
Updated: 2000-07-15
Packaged: 2018-11-10 19:31:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11133258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anne/pseuds/EA%20Karras
Summary: First in the second Mountie Slayer series. (Think of it as Mountie Slayer season 2). Read this one. Last upload screwed up.This story is a sequel to Bible Box.





	Arc 2: Ground Zero

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).
    
    
    Title:  "Ground Zero"
    Author: EA Karras and Magnes 
    Email:,
    website: http://evolvision.virtualave.net/rcms/Tales-of-the.html
    Series: Mountie Slayer Arc 2 
    Notes: Arc 2 takes place 3 years after Arc 1. Gap will be filled by Arc
    1.5 First fic in the Arc 2 series. 
    
    --- 
    
    "Adam! Come on! Smile!" Tom frowned behind the disposable camera he'd
    gotten from the arcade/pizza parlor's vending machine. "Adam." 
    
    The three-year old king smiled, indulgently at  his father, catching
    his own son's eyes. "Dad, please don't call me that..." 
    
    "What? Tom grinned back, snapping the picture. He caught Ray rolling
    his eyes and frowned. "Ray!" 
    
    "What?" Ray looked up, distracted. "What's wrong?" 
    
    He shook his head. "Nothing. Nothing's wrong, Ray." He handed Adam the
    present from himself. "Open it?" 
    
    Sighing with the energy only a child could muster, Aja tore open the
    package. And had to force another smile. A toy robot. Great. Wonderful.
    "Thanks, Dad..." He could sense his father's disappointment and moved
    onto Ray's present. And this time the smile was not faked. 
    
    The imagery was not lost on Tom, nor on Fraser.  Somehow they had all
    managed to lead somewhat normal lives since Stella's announcement of
    her pregnancy and then Tom's announcement of his own. 
    
    But lately, Fraser had noticed Ray becoming more and more distracted,
    and the tension between Tom and his son growing more palpable. He had
    actually grounded the child not three weeks prior. It hadn't been the
    first time, but it had still shocked him. 
    
    When the waitress brought out the pizza, the Mountie couldn't help but
    notice Tom suddenly turn green. He was about to question it, when Tom
    ran towards the bathroom. 
    
    He would have followed if he hadn't been stopped by Adam. "He'll be all
    right," the child whispered.  "He knows what's wrong." 
    
    *** 
    
    "You're ok?" Vecchio smoothed back his wife's hair, watching her on the
    birthing table. She was in pain, and it showed. "You're good?" 
    
    "I'll be fine." She groaned, squeezing his hand tight. "I'm ok." 
    
    *** 
    
    James followed Tom into the bathroom. He could hear retching from one
    of the stalls. "Tom? You ok?" He'd thought they'd gotten through the
    morning sickness stage of this.  It was not something he felt like reliving.
    
    "Just a little queasy, James." Tom's voice was weak as he came across
    the room to splash his face. "Be ok."  Head hung, he held onto the sink
    as he tried to get his breathing under control. 
    
    "You sure? Maybe it's that stuff Melfi gave you?" 
    
    "Maybe."  
    
    Tom made no protest when the vampire came and wrapped his arms around
    him, pressing his lips to the back of Tom's neck.  "You feel a little
    feverish." 
    
    "I'll be alright." 
    
    *** 
    
    They were halfway home and Dief was happily stuffed with pizza and Adam
    was eager to crack open the translation of Ramayamina that Ray had bought
    him (and to play with the toy robot his dad had given him, just to keep
    Tom happy) when Ray's cell phone rang. 
    
    "Kowalski.  Mina?"  He looked over at Fraser significantly.  "Yeah? 
    Really?  Greatness!  Well, for us, anyway.  She hasn't killed anything
    or sent Vecchio to Hell yet, has she?  Good.  Okay.  We're on our way."
    He hung up, handing Fraser the phone.  "Stella's in labor.  Call Calhoun
    will ya?  Vecchio asked us to come.  I think he needs a break." 
    
    "I could see that, given Madame Vecchio's..." 
    
    "Attitude?" 
    
    "Attributes." 
    
    *** 
    
    The waiting room was a crowded affair, with Ma and Frannie and Marie
    waiting for them.  Calhoun and Tom followed a few minutes later.  Tom
    hadn't been there two minutes before Mina came swooping down upon him
    and dragged him off to go talk to the doctor in charge of Stella.  Demonic
    births in hospitals were rare and advice was never overlooked. 
    
    Ray wandered over to the window, away from all the feminine chatter,
    to look out the window at the setting sun.  Fraser watched him, wondering
    at his melancholy and if the notion of Stella/Irene having Vecchio's
    child was the source of his mood.  Leaving the over-excited werewolf
    in Francesca's care, Fraser walked over to the window and put his hand
    on Ray's shoulder. 
    
    "Ray?" 
    
    "Hey, Frase."  He covered the Mountie's big hand with his own smaller,
    slimmer hand. 
    
    "What's wrong?  You seem...distracted.  Has something happened?" 
    
    Ray looked down, lips pursed, then back at the setting sun before adjusting
    his glasses.  "Do ya ever get the feelin' that things are...too right?"
    
    "What do you mean?" 
    
    "Since that last fight with Adolph, when Wyrm switched me back to bein'
    a ghoulite-" 
    
    He turned Ray around gently and made the detective look at him.  "Please
    don't use that word.  I hate it when people associate that word with
    you.  Especially when /you/ do it." 
    
    "Sorrrry, Frazoor," he teased.  What word was he supposed to use? Abnormally
    Challenged? "But do ya feel it?  It's like...we're in one of them glass
    plant things.  A terror..." 
    
    "Terrarium?" 
    
    "Yeah.  Like everything's all nice, nice around us, but we're really
    on display.  Like something's watchin' us from the outside and keepin'
    us quiet and happy." 
    
    Fraser gazed at him.  He couldn't find an easy answer.  He'd never considered
    that their present happiness might have been contrived. That something
    had made them happy, having an ulterior motive for doing so. 
    
    Ray continued.  "Like some day we're gonna wake up and BAM!  The terror...terrarium
    gets smashed and everything goes to hell and we never saw it comin'."
    
    "That's...disturbing, Ray." He paused, thinking. "But it isn't all perfect,
    is it? Tom's on some sort of medication, Francesca was nearly killed.
    That's not perfect." 
    
    He was about to ask further when Tom returned, grinning like an idiot.
    "It's a boy!" 
    
    Ray turned towards the psychic nervously and Fraser suddenly wondered
    if Tom weren't some part of Ray's feelings of paranoia. He slipped his
    arm around Ray as they followed him into the room. "Will you be all right,
    for now?" 
    
    "Sure. Don't worry so much. Freaker." 
    
    Tom froze at the sound of that word, and gave Ray the strangest look.
    
    *** 
     
    "Have you talked to James about any of this?" Melfi asked the following
    morning.  She tapped her pencil against her notes, waiting expectantly
    for her patient's response. 
    
    Tom nodded, "Yeah. He's been very supportive. To an extent." 
    
    "Oh?" 
    
    "He doesn't think I need the medication." Tom honestly thought James
    was right. 
    
    She gave a half nod. "I'm going to take you off of it until the baby
    comes. We'll see how you do without it." 
    
    "Thanks." 
    
    *** 
    
    Vecchio smirked at Grissom as they stood side by side in the maternity
    ward then peeked back at his son through the nursery window. 
    
    "You should tell the father." He waved at his son, Ray Jr., and got a
    gurgle for his troubles. He smiled, knowing he was making an ass out
    of himself but not caring in the least. 
    
    "Ray...James is the father." 
    
    "So you keep saying and I can't imagine /how/ since vampires don't reproduce
    that way."  
    Tom looked down and studied his sneakers. Rorschach print.   "I'm a Moloch,
    Ray. Don't ask me to explain it any better." 
    
    "He's got a right to know. We all do." 
    
    "I know.  I guess I'm just...afraid of risking what I've got." 
    
    *** 
    
    Ray listened to Aja read from the book he'd given him and smiled. They
    were the only two still awake, and it never ceased to amaze him how quickly
    Aja had adapted, though he still refused to act like a child for anyone
    but Tom. 
    
    "You really like that book, huh?" 
    
    "Yes, Ray." 
    
    "But not the robot." 
    
    Aja actually rolled his eyes. "No. Though, I imagine it would make him
    happier if I did." 
    
    "He's happy." 
    
    "Is he?" 
     
    "I think so.  Happier than he's been in years.  He loves ya to death,
    Aja." 
    
    "I know.  And I love him.  I just wish he would understand that I am...not
    what he expects." 
    
    "He'll figure it out eventually."  Ray leaned over and kissed his father
    on the forehead.  "And I love you, too, Aja." 
    
    A warm smile was his reward.  When Caine smiled like that, all Ray could
    see was the gentle eyes he had grown to love so dearly from the first
    time the ancient had called him 'son.' 
        
    *** 
    
    Calhoun woke up to the feel of Tom squirming. He smoothed back Tom's
    hair, kissing the psychic gently. "What's the matter?" 
    
    "Stomach hurts. Go back to..." Tom suddenly winced. "Ow..." 
    
    Instantly alert, Calhoun lifted his head.  "What is it? Is it the baby?"
    
    "I...um...James?"  His hand sought the Sabbat's. 
    
    "What?  What is it?" 
    
    "Um...ow...uh...something I should have told you three years ago." 
    
    "What is it?  What's wrong, Tom?" 
    
    "I'm pregnant." 
    
    Calhoun rolled his eyes. "No kidding? I think I figured that out when
    you showed me the ultrasound, hmm?" 
    
    "Wyrm helped."
    
    "WHAT?" 
    
    The vampire's voice was loud enough to wake the whole household. 
    
    Tom winced, as much in pain as at James' shout.  The vampire stared at
    him, shocked, crushed, hurt - a veritable tidal wave of confusion and
    betrayal crashing down upon him. 
    
    "Wyrm made it so that we could. I mean...sort of..."
    
    Calhoun looked heavenwards at the god that hated him so.  "Christ almighty!
    I don't believe this!  Tell me you've played me for a fool all these
    years, Tom! This is a Wyrm child." 
    
    Panting, Tom clutched his belly and managed to gasp, "It's yours!" 
    
    Calhoun froze.  "What're you talking about?"
    
    Looking miserable and pale, Tom shook his head.  "It's yours, James.
    Remember that night we last saw Adolph?" 
    
    "Yeah," he breathed. 
    
    Tom nodded, half-smiling.  "That night I made a deal with Wyrm. He got
    Adolph, I got this. A gift." 
    
    "Gift?" 
    
    "I gave Wyrm a child.  He gave me yours. It didn't take that night. It
    did take when I went into heat. Courtesy of Wyrm." 
    
    Calhoun stared, riveted, until Tom gasped in pain again. 
    
    "James...please!" 
    
    "Jesus!"  The vampire bolted out of their bedroom and banged on Ray's
    and Fraser's door.  "Prince Kowalski!  Fraser!  Get up!" 
    
    A bleary-eyed and disheveled vampire prince opened the door.  "Whasis?"
    
    "We have to get Tom to the hospital.  He's in labor."
    
    Ray stared.  Calhoun gave him a helpless look and a shrug and hurried
    back to Tom.  Behind him, he heard the American call, "Hey, Frase, wake
    up.  Tom's havin' Dead Man's kid right now." 
        
    *** 
    
    Tom winced, touching his stomach. "Are you mad, James?" They were in
    the exam room, waiting for Tom's doctor to arrive. 
    
    Calhoun smiled tightly and nodded. "That you didn't tell me? Uh huh."
    
    "Oh." Tom looked down, playing with the edge of the hospital gown. "I'm
    sorry." 
    
    James relented. "But not that it happened." 
    
    Tom smiled, looking back up as the doctor entered. 
    
    "Let's get you checked out, and then moved up to the ward, ok?" 
    
    He lay back on the exam table, wincing again as the doctor hooked up
    the ultra sound. He grinned up at James nervously. 
    
    Calhoun brushed Tom's hair back, watching the screen. "What is it?" His
    voice was soft. Almost awed. He hadn't wanted to know until now. 
    
    "A girl." The doctor moved the scanner to the left, "There's a bit of
    a build up in the sacs. Shouldn't be a problem."  
    
    Tom smiled at the expression on the vampire's face.  "Will you name her?"
    
    Calhoun was overwhelmed.  He had to swallow before he could whisper,
    "Yes." 
        
    *** 
    
    Vecchio sat in the waiting room, waiting with the others. Stella had
    sent him down, saying that if Tom had managed to be there for her, one
    of them could damn well be there for him. 
    
    Calhoun ran his hand over his hair. "I don't understand why he didn't
    tell me." 
    
    "He was afraid."  
    
    The hand dropped and he stared at the Italian.  "You knew?  What was
    he afraid of?" 
    
    "Losing you," Vecchio answered softly. 
        
    *** 
    
    Tom's grip on Fraser's shoulder suddenly loosened, and the Mountie looked
    over at the psychic he was helping walk around the room. The doctor had
    said it would relieve the sac pressure. "Tom? What is it?" 
    
    "I feel funny." 
    
    "Funny?"  Somehow he could hear Ray's voice echoing through his head:
    Funny is bad, Frase. 
    
    Tom shook his head and instantly regretted it. The room shifted to the
    left then upward and his knees buckled. Fraser barely managed to catch
    him in time. 
    
    "Thomas? What is it?" 
    
    "I feel weird. I....ah!" The room shifted again and seemed to invert.
    Something sticky was on his stomach, his feet and his legs. He moaned.
    "Benton? What's wrong with me..." 
    
    Fraser looked down and saw the slowly forming puddle of blood on the
    floor and the stain on the gown. Without hesitation, he lifted Tom onto
    the bed, hitting the call button. 
    
    *** 
    
    Adam was taking apart the robot with Ray when he suddenly looked stricken.
    "Aja? What is it?" 
    
    "I don't know..." 
    
    Ray gave an oof as the child king hugged him tightly. "Aja..." 
    
    "I'm scared. Why?"                                            
    
    "Let's go find out.  Dief!  Come on!" 
        
    *** 
    
    "Mina?" Fraser looked up, wincing as Tom clutched his hand tightly. "What
    is it?" 
    
    "His blood's thinned out. He's hemorrhaging. We have to get the baby
    out, now."  
    Tom almost screamed in renewed pain.  Pale, sweaty, and gasping, he tried
    to look around.  "James.  Where's James?" 
    
    "He's with the doctor," soothed Mina, wiping his forehead with a cloth.
    "Shh. He'll be here in a few moments." 
    
    *** 
    
    "WHAT?" 
    
    Calmly, knowing how on edge this potentially deadly client was, the doctor
    repeated his question. "You're listed as his next of kin. If a choice
    must be made, Mr. Calhoun, should we save the child or should we save
    Mr. Grissom?" 
    
    Calhoun stared.  He had slaughtered countless people in his existence
    and never before had the prospect of death frightened him as it did now.
    What a choice.  How could he choose?  He felt Ray Vecchio's hand on his
    shoulder, ready to support any decision he made.  How had events moved
    so quickly? 
    
    "Mr. Calhoun?" 
    
    Lose another daughter? 
    
    "Mr. Calhoun?" 
    
    Lose Marianne again? 
    
    "Mr. Calhoun!" 
    
    "Tom," he barely whispered, hating himself, knowing Tom would hate him.
    He felt Vecchio's grip tighten. 
    
    "I think you should go to him.  He's been asking for you." 
    
    *** 
    
    "He's in pain." 
    
    "He's havin' a baby, Aja." 
    
    "Raymond?  He needs me there with him." 
    
    "You got it, Daddy-o." 
    
    *** 
    
    "J-James?" 
    
    "I'm right here." 
    
    Tom swallowed, fighting the pain.  "I'm so sorry I didn't tell you sooner.
    I was just so happy." 
    
    "It's alright, Tom."  He held the trembling hand and smoothed the raven
    hair.  The smell of blood was so strong he could taste it, taste the
    fear.  Christ, it was all over the floor. "I'm going to be a father again.
    Even I can't stay mad at something so wonderful." 
    
    "What will you name her?" 
    
    "Sophia Grania.  Wisdom and grace." 
    
    "I hope she has your eyes." 
    
    "I hope she has my fashion sense." 
    
    Not quite up to laughing, Tom smiled.  They both looked up when the doctor
    returned. 
    
    "We're ready, gentlemen." 
    
    *** 
    
    Ray pulled into the hospital parking lot, his heart pounding in his ears.
    Aja was afraid, so was he. Something had happened. He lifted the child
    king into his arms, carrying him through the hospital doors and hallway
    with Dief trotting at his side. 
    
    When he finally got to the waiting room, the silence scared him more.
    He went straight to Fraser. The Mountie's t-shirt had been replaced with
    a scrubs top. Why? "Frase? What's going on?" 
    
    Fraser's voice was filled with despair. "Ray." 
    
    Ray suddenly found himself enveloped in a hug, and Aja along with him.
    "Frase? What is it?" 
    
    Fraser couldn't answer. Just held on as if Ray were his lifeline. 
    
    And he was. 
    
    He didn't know what he would do if anything happened to Ray, but he thought
    he would surely die.  God, poor Jamey... 
    
    "Frase?"  
    
    "It's...it's not going very well, Ray." 
    
    "I know.  Aja needs to see him." 
        
    *** 
    
    Calhoun blinked with surprise when the wiggling baby was thrust into
    his hands. He held her close without even looking at her, trying to warm
    her, watching in horror as Tom continued to crash, dying before his eyes.
    
    "Left sac won't close, there's considerable damage. The fluid gets into
    his blood stream, he'll die." 
    
    The doctor nodded. "We'll have to remove the damaged sac." 
    
    "Doctor..." Mina looked surprised. She mopped sweat from Tom's brow.
    
    "Do it." Calhoun ordered. "Help him." He leaned in close. "Doctor. If
    he dies, /you/ die." 
    
    *** 
    
    They all looked up as Calhoun came out of the hospital room. He didn't
    make it very far, just across the hall where he slowly slid down until
    he was seated with his back to wall.  There was blood on the scrubs he
    wore and traces of more still on his hands.  They crowded around him.
    The expression on his face scared the hell out of Vecchio, and he was
    the first to speak. "Well?" 
    
    Calhoun's voice was unsteady.  "A girl. Sophia Grania." 
        
    "And Thomas?" Fraser asked quietly. 
    
    "He's unconscious. He lost a lot of blood." He held his hand out for
    Aja to take, and was stunned when it was taken. Caine rarely allowed
    Calhoun to touch him.  He was Sabbat.  Despised. "If he wakes up tonight,
    they think he'll be okay."  
    
    Aja covered the vampire's hand with his own.  "Take me to him, James.
    Let me help." 
    
    Calhoun gazed at this child that was not a child.  He could accept Caine's
    rejection of him without complaint, even after three years.  He was Calhoun's
    lord.  But too often he had turned from Tom and the vampire was tired
    of it on his lover's account. 
    
    "I'll take you to him, my lord.  But just this once, could you at least
    /try/ to show him some of the love he deserves from you?  His loss was
    your survival and you have hurt him time and again." 
    
    Caine nodded.  "I know.  To my shame, I know, James.  I have made such
    mistakes in the past with Prince Kowalski.  I know what I owe him.  Thank
    you for reminding me.  Now, please, Elder, let me help him." 
    
    He nodded, allowing Vecchio to help him up off the floor.  "This way,
    my lord." 
    
    "Cal!" called Ray, almost tripping over Dief to reach him.  "Where's
    Sophia?" 
    
    Calhoun blinked.  "I...I...the nurse took her from me.  I..." 
    
    Ray smiled at his retainer.  "We'll go find her.  You help Tom." 
    
    *** 
    
    Aja slipped his hand from Calhoun's, climbing onto the hospital bed next
    to his father. Tom had been moved to a cleaner room and the blood had
    been washed off of him. He was absolutely still, his skin pale enough
    to rival Calhoun's deathly white. Aja gently felt Tom's stomach through
    the hospital gown. "They removed something?" 
    
    "They had to," the vampire replied wearily.  "They could have poisoned
    him otherwise." 
    
    Aja took in the sight of his father hooked up to life support and two
    IVs, one in his hand and one in his arm.  The slow beeping of the life
    support machines. The child part of him, Adam, was absolutely mad with
    fear. But he had to keep that down. He had to... 
    
    Calhoun had no idea what to do when his lord began to cry.  For now,
    just for now, Aja actually looked like the child he was supposed to be.
    
    *** 
    
    "Frase?" 
    
    Fraser looked to Ray, smiling a bit. "Yes?" He squeezed Ray's hand tightly
    then looked to the right for the nurse or for Mina. 
    
    "I think someone just cracked the terrarium." 
    
    *** 
    
    Ultimately, it was Dief who found the child, sleeping in the crib right
    next to Ray Jr. Stella was in the nursery taking care of the both of
    them when Vecchio found her. "Stell?" 
    
    She held the bottle to Sophia's lips, rocking the cradle her son lay
    in with her foot and looking very domestic. "Something's happened to
    Tom?" 
    
    "Yeah." 
    
    "What?"  
    
    "Something in his bloodstream.  He's been on some kind of medication
    for depression.  The doctor thinks Melfi may not have taken into consideration
    that he's a hybrid.  It thinned his blood out so much he hemorrhaged
    when he went into labor.  Mina said he lost so much blood he's comatose
    right now." 
    
    Stella grimaced.  "How is Jamey taking it?" 
    
    "He's...a mess right now.  Can't say I blame him." 
    
    Stella leaned down and lifted the newborn the nurses had entrusted to
    her for a little while.  "Has he seen her yet?" 
    
    "He held her.  I don't know if he actually saw her.  He was a little
    busy." 
    
    "She has his eyes.  She's beautiful." 
    
    *** 
    
    /Seer./ 
    
    Floating in warm darkness he was.  Alone, empty, isolated. 
    
    /Seer./ 
    
    He recognized the voice.  Wyrm.  Father of Adolph. 
    
    "What do you want, Wyrm?" 
    
    /Your child is born.  The child you so wished for.  Born of the undead./
    
    "That was the deal.  I gave you Adolph.  You gave me Sophia." 
    
    /My son will kill her./ 
    
    "James would not allow that to happen.  Neither would Fraser or Prince
    Kowalski." 
    
    /He will kill them all./ 
    
    "They don't kill easy.  Besides, you need them alive." 
    
    A low chuckle echoed through the blackness.  /You remember. Consider
    this, Seer: your daughter is born of a soulless creature that is an abomination
    in the face of nature, doubly so because he is Sabbat.  His curse is
    hers: she is as soulless as he./ 
    
    "No..." 
    
    /Would you give her the chance to fight for a soul?/ 
    
    "Yes." 
    
    /Would you give her the power to defend herself against my son?/ 
    
    "Of course!" 
    
    /Give her, then, your legacy.  Make her the Slayer Born./ 
    
    "What?  How?  Why do you care?" 
    
    /Care?  For you?  For yours?  I care nothing for you, Thomas Grissom.
    I care only about my goals.  My son will some day interfere with those
    goals and I will want him eliminated.  What better way than a Slayer
    Born?/ 
    
    "You know I can't do it, you bastard.  I can't kill Adolph.  Why should
    Sophia?" 
    
    /Because then I will grant her a soul./ 
    
    "What?  Adolph's?  You'd corrupt my daughter?" 
    
    /Your daughter has a sister./ 
    
    Alice.  James' daughter, a pure and innocent baby.  Killed by him when
    she was still an infant.  She would be granted Alice's soul?    He felt
    a great pressure in his mind.  Heard a voice calling to him from across
    a great distance.  Adam? 
    
    "Daddy?" whispered the voice. 
    
    /Choose, Seer, and return to your world.  Save your power or save your
    daughter./ 
    
    Tom closed his eyes, but the blackness was no less.  He tried to remember
    what light looked like. 
    
    /Choose./ 
    
    "Do it," he breathed, hating himself, knowing James would hate him as
    well. 
    
    /Amen.  Be gone, Seer./ 
    
    *** 
    
    Aja sobbed into his father's chest, unable to look at Calhoun or at his
    father. He'd failed. Something or someone had corrupted the man that
    he now called father and he had failed them all. 
    
    He felt Tom's chest suddenly heave underneath him, as if the Seer had
    taken a sudden, very deep breath. He looked up as it happened again.
    Harder. Leaning backwards he looked at James. "Something's wrong..."
    
    "What is it?" James breathed, standing beside Tom and brushing his hair
    back. He saw the tremble in Tom's arms and worried. "What's wrong?" 
    
    "I don't know..." 
    
    Tom's eyes suddenly opened wide and he blinked hard, gasping for air
    around the tube shoved down his throat. His head was thrown back, and
    he choked in pain. 
    
    Aja stumbled back, and ran out of the room, unable to watch his father's
    pain. Calhoun understood. He almost wanted to do the same. "Tom. Tom,
    calm down. Please, calm down..." He saw blood suddenly trickle out from
    between Tom's lips, and shuddered. "Oh...Christ." He took hold of the
    breathing tube with one hand, steadying Tom with the other and gently
    he pulled on the tube. "Cough!  Cough it up!" he ordered.  With agonizing
    slowness, it came out and he tossed it to the floor. 
    
    Tom struggled to sit up, choking on something. Gagging. James helped
    him lean over the bed, rubbing at his back. "Tom? Tom, what..." 
    
    He wasn't prepared when Tom started throwing up blood. Moloch blood.
    Human blood. /Slayer/ blood.  He could smell the differences but couldn't
    understand...He ignored the hot liquid spattered and smeared on his clothes
    as he kept Tom from falling off the bed. 
    
    "Tom!" He hit the call button.  "Oh God..." 
    
    It was over as quickly as it began and Tom sagged against Calhoun, panting.
    His voice was hoarse from the respirator.  "James...sorry...I'm sorry,..."
    
    "Shh, shh," soothed the vampire elder.  He drew Tom close, treating him
    as if he was made of china as he stroked his hair and back.  "Don't leave
    me.  Stay with me now.  Can you breathe alright?  What hurts?" 
    
    "M'okay," slurred the psychic.  "Where's Sophia?" 
    
    Calhoun blinked, stumped.  "Uh...Prince Kowalski is with her." 
    
    "I need her." 
    
    "I'll get her." 
        
    *** 
    
    Stella could feel the sudden strength in the child's body and looked
    at it, almost panicked. "Ray?" 
    
    "What?" Vecchio looked up from rocking his son. "What's wrong?" 
    
    "I need to take her to them. Now."  
    
    They looked up as Ray entered carrying Aja.  The boy was sobbing against
    his neck.  Fraser was just a step behind them.  The two men stopped and
    stared at the child in Stella's arms. 
    
    "Constable.  Perfect.  Take her to Tom right now.  She needs to be with
    him and I can't walk that far yet." 
    
    "Aja, you want to stay here?" invited Ray to the child clinging to him.
    "We're going to check on Tom." 
    
    "No," whispered the boy.  "He's my father.  I'll go." 
    
    "We'll be back." 
    
    *** 
    
    They approached the room nervously, waiting to be waylaid by a nurse
    for having moved Sophia from Stella's room, but the nurses were all too
    busy.  There were several doctors in Tom's room and Calhoun was being
    rude to all of them.  The vampire was a mess of blood and looked ready
    to snap as the doctors exclaimed over Tom and ordered more IV's and generally
    got in the Sabbat's way. 
    
    Fraser knocked before entering.  "Jamey, how is - Tom!" 
    
    Grissom lay on the bed.  He was pale and listless, but he was awake and
    he looked content as his lover growled at the doctors he clearly thought
    were a pack of fools. 
    
    Over at the door, Ray looked at Aja.  The child king was poised just
    around the corner of the room, waiting for Ray to scout out the conditions
    first. 
    
    "It's okay.  Come on.  I'll get Sophia." 
    
    Aja poked his head around the corner.  Tom saw him almost immediately
    and smiled gently in invitation.  Fraser lifted him onto the bed and
    Tom gently touched the boy's grayish cheek. 
    
    "I heard you," he whispered. 
    
    "I was looking for you." 
    
    "You have a sister." 
    
    And Caine smiled. 
    
    "Shoo!  C'mon!  Gang way!" ordered Ray Kowalski.  He pulled the tiny
    hospital crib into the room, stepping on a few doctorial toes as he went.
    "Scram!  This is a private Kodak moment.  Get yer own, docs!" 
    
    Calhoun turned. 
    
    Ray lifted the tiny bundle from the crib, looking at Tom.  The psychic
    tilted his head at the vampire, watching.  Ray pursed his lips and ordered,
    "Sit down before you fall." 
    
    Obediently, too stunned to argue, James Calhoun sank into the chair beside
    the bed as Ray handed him his daughter.  He was silent, his voice gone.
    No words would come as he gazed at his perfect, tiny, raven-haired daughter.
    Tom watched him lovingly, holding Adam to him as he reveled in the vampire's
    expression.  Finally Calhoun found his voice. 
    
    "I...I wish I could still cry." 
    
    Tom smiled weakly and felt Adam's tiny hand on his cheek. "You like her?"
    
    Aja smiled again, feeling his father weaken with a combination of weariness
    and drugs. But something else was pulling him under. Something he couldn't
    define. "Just let go..." he whispered. "Rest..." 
    
    The room seemed to shift again and Tom prayed no one noticed his sudden
    black out. 
    
    Calhoun smiled at the tiny child he cradled in his arms. So much like
    Alice.  He held the bottle Ray proffered to her lip, and was almost delighted
    when she took it. He glanced at Tom, frowning a bit. "Tom?" 
    
     "He's all right. Asleep."
    
     ***
    
    He was back in the sanitarium. Restrained to his bed. He felt grimy,
    but he felt good. Both at once. His eyes pulled open, and he took in
    his surroundings. The doctor in front of him warped into an image of
    Faith. 
    
    "Back to the madhouse, huh?" she smiled, cocking her head. "Scary how
    your  mind works, babe. Where it can take you. You're not as five by
    five as you think, are ya?" 
    
    "Faith?" He tested the restraints. Too tight. This wasn't real. Was it?
    
    She shook her head, then nodded. "Me and all. You shouldn't have..."
    
    She warped again, this time a younger girl. Maybe 18. A strange accent.
    "Done what you have done. What you've done has played right into his
    hands." 
    
    An image of a tarot laid out. 
    
    She warped again. A blonde girl now. Only 16. "Well. His tentacles, really.
    Same diff. They'll all die, you know. Because of what you've done." 
    
    He shook his head. "Who are you?"
    
    "Buffy..."
    
    warped
    
    "Kendra."
    
    warped
    
    "You know me, baby."
    
    "What..." He licked the inside of his mouth. Suddenly very dry. Very
    afraid. "What am I supposed to do? Take it back?" 
    
    "Too late for that, guy."
    
    warped. An older woman. She looked like him. Was his age. "She's one
    of us now." 
    
    warped. The doctor. With all of their voices. "She's one of us now."
    
     "Back to the madhouse."
    
     "We'll take care of her."
    
     "Who'll take care of you?"
    
     ***
    
    "Ray?  What you were saying yesterday, about the terrarium..."
    
    "Like we're on display?"
    
    "Yes.  I...I think I know what you mean. After so many events in such
    rapid succession, all I can wonder is why Adolph hasn't returned." 
    
    Ray nodded.  "He sure seemed mad enough."
    
    "I wonder if Turnbull has sensed any of this.  Have you spoken to him?"
    
    "Yer the first one, Frase.  I figured everyone else would look at me
    like I'm Grissom or something.  I haven't had a flash since then, either.
    Now that Sophia's born...sayonara nice, quiet life.  What the hell's
    coming, Frase?"
    
    "I wish I knew, Ray.  The Watchers have laid low, even.  It's as if the
    whole, unnatural world is holding its breath." 
    
    Ray nodded understandingly.  "Seems like it's gettin' ready to scream."
    
    ***
    
    "Who'll take care of you, Thomas?" The woman leaned over, tightening
    his restraints. 
    
    It hurt. His arms were being pulled in a bad way. He looked into her
    eyes, "Marianne?" his voice was barely a whisper. 
    
    She smiled at him. Warped again. "Faith."
    
    "Who's gonna make sure you don't croak? James?"
    
    "I..."
    
    "I wouldn't count on it. He'll be a bit busy..."
    
    "No."
    
    She shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. Who's to say?"
    
    He tilted his head as she warped again. An even younger girl. She couldn't
    be any older than 13. But she carried herself well. Looked older in the
    eyes. Looked like James. "Maybe James. Maybe me..." 
    
    A slight smile touched his lips. "Sophia?"
    
    "Close your eyes. Take your time."
    
    He closed his eyes as her hand touched his cheek. He felt drained. She
    kissed him on the forehead, and everything went black. 
    
    ***
    
    James lay Sophia on Tom's chest, the same as had been done for both Cassie
    and Adam. It seemed to calm the children. Aja stared at him, unblinking.
    Unnervingly. 
    
    "We should call Cassandra," he suddenly said. "She should know we have
    a sister."  There was no love lost between Aja and Cassie.  He knew that
    distressed Tom, but there was too great a gap and Caine simply was not
    the child Cassie had expected him to be. 
    
    James nodded, wondering when it had become dark outside.  He was exhausted
    beyond telling.  Perhaps Prince Kowalski could call for him... 
    
    Caine scrambled off the bed and went over to take the Sabbat by the arm.
    "James, you've got to rest.  I'll find Raymond or his soul and ask them
    to call Cassandra.  Please, lie down." 
    
    He let himself be propelled towards the other bed.  "Call the nurse.
    Ask her to take Sophia, my lord..." 
    
    Caine gazed up at him.  "Elder Calhoun, I apologize for underestimating
    you all these years.  I would not look past Autarkis and Sabbat.  I failed
    to consider who called you so and why.  You have given honor to such
    titles." 
    
    He smiled faintly and whispered, "Thank you, my lord."
    
    ***
    
    Darkness. Total darkness. The smell of burning sulfur and burning flesh.
    He blinked against the darkness and saw the sidewalks were covered in
    slate. Covered in blood. Human. Demon. 
    
    He could hear screaming, looked up and he could see Adolph flying over
    head. He was larger. He had healed. 
    
    ***
    
    "Didja call the Ice Queen?" asked Ray, taking the sleeping Aja from Fraser's
    arms and cradling him close. 
    
    "Yes, Ray.  She asked me to convey her congratulations to Stella and
    Ray, and Tom and Jamey and her wish for Tom's speedy recovery.  She also
    gave me tomorrow off when I explained how sick Tom has been." 
    
    "Okay.  I'll run home and get them some clothes and drop Dief and Aja
    off at Ma's.  I think the nurses are sick of everyone's dessert disappearin'
    off the trays.  See ya in an hour or so, Frase.  And don't forget to
    call Cassie!" 
    
    He pressed Fraser's hand, resisting the urge to kiss him right there
    in the hospital lobby.  By the look in the Canadian's eyes, though, he
    could tell Fraser was having the same dilemma.  Their mutual understanding
    made them both smile and Ray finally tore away, Dief running ahead to
    activate the sliding doors. 
    
    "Oy, Diefenbaker, I got it bad for that freak," he admitted.  "Whew!"
    
    Ma piled him with food and grilled him for details about Sophia.  Ray
    tried to spare her the gorier details and promised to pick her up the
    next day to take her to the hospital if Vecchio couldn't make it. 
    
    Back at the apartment, he gathered clothes for Calhoun - black, black,
    and black leather.  What was it with that man?  Tom's closet was a study
    in bad taste.  Grissom was one of the few people running around Chicago
    that could make Ray look like a fashion plate.  He collected the least-offensive
    sweat pants and shirt he could find, then went and checked on the mail
    he'd collected when he came through the door.  
    
    There was a small, flat box for him.  No return address.  He opened it
    curiously.  Inside was another box, and inside that was a deck of cards.
    The backs were the Canadian flag.  The other side... 
    
    He looked at the pictures.  Strange.  Not a regular set of cards at all.
    He vaguely recognized them, but couldn't remember the name.  Weird. 
    He stuffed  them and the box into the gym bag with the clothes, then
    hurried out the door. 
    
    ***
    
    James opened his eyes to find himself in a cold room, lying on the floor.
    The sound of reverberating electricity surrounded him, and he slowly
    sat up. 
    
    His head knocked against a metal table, and he jumped. A grunt from above
    him made him stand up. 
    
    Tom was lying on a metal gurney, strapped down to it with restraints
    over his wrists, legs and ankles. There was a bite guard in his mouth
    and his face was twitching. Tom's eyes flew open, and the fear in them
    was apparent. 
    
    He pried the piece of plastic out of Tom's mouth and looked up. "What's
    going on Tom?" 
    
    "It's not real...it isn't...." Tom babbled, almost insanely. Sobbing.
    Calhoun shook his head, not understanding. He felt eyes on him and looked
    up. A doctor was staring at him, standing behind Tom's head. Holding
    two instruments in his hands. "This is real...James, please don't...."
    
    Tom squeezed his eyes shut at the sight of them, and Calhoun saw years
    of pain behind that wince. Was this what had happened to him when he
    was committed? 
    
    He reached out to stop the doctor, but his hand passed right through.
    
    Tom's screams sent him jolting back into wakefulness.
    
    ***
    
    Frase hung up the phone. He hadn't been able to get through to Cassandra.
    How odd. He sat in a chair beside Stella's room, closing his eyes. The
    events of the past two days were finally catching up with him. His eyes
    drifted closed. 
    
    He felt like he was suspended in water. Ice cold water. As he opened
    his eyes, he found that that was the case. Everything was dark, save
    for one light at the top of the room. He was restrained in a tub, filled
    with ice cold water. He could hear screaming from down the hallway. "What..."
    
    Suddenly he was surrounded by them. Young girls, one older one. Slayers.
    He recognized that. "He'll be the one," Kendra whispered. 
    
    "Yeah. I like his odds," Buffy smirked.
    
    Faith traced her fingers on his face, "He'll work just fine. He's one
    of us." 
    
    "It could've been the other."
    
    "He gave it up to Wyrm."
    
    "Twice."
    
    "Once. The second was undead."
    
    "But he gave it up /for/ Wyrm."
    
    "Patriotic of him. He damned them all."
    
    He watched them pace around him, head spinning. What were they talking
    about? Tom? Ray? What? 
    
    "But he'll work fine."
    
    "Yes."
    
    "I don't know. I don't like him," He didn't recognize her. He'd never
    seen her picture in any of the Slayer annals. Perhaps she was new?  Or
    old? 
    
    Everything went dark and quiet. And then...
    
    "Benton." Lilith. No. He struggled in his restraints, trying to get loose.
    Water splashed all around. 
    
    "Frase." Ray?
    
    "Benton." Tom? Light illuminated once more. On the opposite wall. A gurney
    propped against the wall. Tom was against it, his arms restrained above
    his head and to each other. The position looked painful. He warped into
    Ray. Into Lilith. Into Faith. 
    
    "It's not real."
    
    "The sun went out."
    
    "Blocked. Not out."
    
    "Same difference."
    
    He watched, stunned. He'd had strange dreams before. But never like this.
    It seemed too real. 
    
    ***
    
    Ray stopped the car at the stop light, and looked down for a minute to
    tie a loose shoelace. When he looked up, everything looked gritty. Dark.
    Bloody. 
    
    He blinked. Normal again. Way weird.  He needed to get some sleep. 
    
    He found Calhoun asleep in the bed next to Tom's and as he set the gym
    bag down he suddenly realized the vampire was dreaming.  Or something
    like that. 
    
    Weird thing was, vampires didn't dream.
    
    Slayers sure as hell did, though, and he looked over at Grissom.  He
    wasn't just dreaming, though, he was reliving something.  Maybe that
    was it.  Psi-Boy was at it again. 
    
    "Hey!" called Ray, trying to rouse them both.  He'd learned from experience
    you didn't try to wake Calhoun up by touching him.  He'd almost gotten
    killed doing that once.  Maybe if he woke up Tom, though, Cal would come
    along for the ride.  "Hey!  Tom!  Wakey, wakey!" 
    
    He gave the psychic a shake.  Nothing.  Calhoun was gasping in what sounded
    like pain or rage.  Ray lightly slapped Tom's face and at the third try
    Grissom's brown eyes flew open, wide with terror. 
    
    ***
    
    Benton Fraser jerked awake, shivering cold.  He was sweaty and trembling
    and all he could think of was to find Ray.  Get to Ray.  He needed the
    safety that was Ray Kowalski. 
    
    Unsteadily, he rose and went in search of his lover.
    
    ***
    
    Calhoun roused with a violent start, a cry escaping his lips as he sat
    bolt upright in the bed. 
    
    "Tom!"
    
    He tried to rise but almost fell out of the bed.  Ray seized him. 
    
    "Hey!  Hey!  Take it easy, Cal.  Tom's here.  Looks like you guys had
    a bad nightmare." 
    
    He looked up as Fraser entered the room, pale and anxious.  "Whoa. Communal
    nightmare. Frase, you okay?" 
    
    The Mountie shook his head.  "A terrible, terrible nightmare, Ray." 
    
    "It wasn't a dream," stated Calhoun, his voice flat. "I'm incapable of
    dreaming." 
    
    "I'd like ta point out yer also not capable of fatherin' a child, so
    what's with the little tax write-off over in the nursery?" demanded Kowalski.
    "Fraser, sit down.  Okay.  One at a time.  Want me ta go first?" 
    
    "You had a dream while you were driving?" demanded Fraser, concerned.
    
    "No!   The terrarium thing!"
    
    "I don't..."
    
    "I just saw some weird shit. Like cracks in a glass." He shrugged, "
    Oh, and this just came in the mail." 
    
    He dug out the box of cards and handed them to Fraser.
    
     "Oh. My. God."
    
    Fraser was looking at the cards.  He held up the first one.
    
    The Tower.
    
    It was a stylized image of the 13th.
    
    Ray's voice was toneless.  "This is bad, huh, Frase?"
    
    He nodded.  "I believe so, Ray." He flipped to the next card.
    
    The Slayer Born. This was not a standard tarot deck.
    
    It was a painting of Fraser looking up at the stars.
    
    The Fear.
    
    A photograph of the Sanitarium.
    
    The Seer.
    
    Tom, as Fraser had seen him in his dream. Painfully restrained.
    
    The Soldier.
    
    Jamey, the WWI painting of him as a corporal from his bible box.
    
    The Queen. Lilith in all her Hellish glory.
    
    The Childer. The McGet riding in the Impala.
    
    The King. Wyrm.
    
    The Three. Adam. Caine. Eloise.
    
    The Prince. Ray.
    
    The Hermit. Warfield.
    
    The High Priestess. Thatcher.
    
    The Rose Emperor. Zuko.
    
    The Knight. Vecchio.
    
    Judgment. Stella.
    
    The Last Daughter of Eve. Eloise.
    
    Death. Adolph.
    
    The Light, a stylized merging of all Slayers.
    
    The Last Slayer. The girl from his dream. Tom seemed to recognize her.
    
    The Moon. Diefenbaker.
    
    The Fool. Cecil.
    
    The Magician. Daniel
    
    And then it got really strange. Scary, even.
    
    The Sun. A darkened orb. Completely blackened.
    
    The World. Encompassed by fire.
    
    The Land. Slate sidewalks.
    
    The People. Screaming people. Horrifying visages.
    
    The Plain of Armageddon.  The Chicago skyline.
    
    The Hierophant. Frobisher.
    
    "Hierophant," Fraser whispered. He looked to Ray, who shook his head.
    "Gateway to knowledge. Did he send this, I wonder." 
    
    "Why? To weird us out?" Ray tilted his head.
    
    Fraser shook his head. "No. It's a message." He looked to Tom. "Ray once
    said you had psychometric capabilities." 
    
    Ray looked at Fraser, strangely. "I did?"
    
    "Yes. Not in so many words, but yes."
    
    Tom shrugged. "So?" He felt Fraser wrap his hand around the deck of cards
    and winced. "Geez...give a guy a warning..." His eyes glazed over and
    he went under. 
    
    "What the-?" began Calhoun, rising.
    
    "Wait," ordered Fraser.
    
    Ray looked away then at the cards scattered on Tom's lap.  One slid to
    the floor and he bent to lift it. 
    
    The Sun.
    
    It was black.  Everything the Sun should NOT be.
    
    Suddenly his head began to pound.  He felt a rushing in his ears.  The
    blackened sun grew, engulfed him, and for the first time in three years,
    Ray had a flash. 
    
    Dark.  Cold.  Misery so profound he could feel it pressing against his
    mind.  The world was...changed.  Conquered.  Dominated. 
    
    Wyrm.
    
    Fortitude Pass, covered in snow even though it was high summer.  There
    were no more seasons, only winter. 
    
    Fraser turned and faced the darkness.
    
    Calhoun falling.  Or had he jumped?
    
    A raven-haired girl with ice blue eyes smiling in delight.
    
    Tom screamed.  And screamed.  And screamed.
    
    Turnbull knelt in the darkness.
    
    Aja wept.
    
    "Ray!  Ray!  Can you hear me?  Ray, wake up!  Please!"
    
    Fraser...
    
    He saw a seething mass of pale flesh, a long, snakelike body so huge
    only the world could hold it.  Penned in by souls. 
    
    So many they blocked the sun. Writhed around it. As if in attempt to
    destroy that which had destroyed them. 
    
    Wyrm...Wyrm had put them in a terrarium while he destroyed the outside
    world. 
    
    Warm hands held him down as the convulsions started. He felt warmth on
    his face. Then coldness. 
    
    Then...a warmth.  A golden glow.  A hand, a woman's hand, offering someone
    a single flower.  A rose. 
    
    He wondered if he'd ever see one again, then lapsed into darkness. 
    
    *** 
    
    Tom felt strange. As if he was floating and opened his eyes. James was
    staring at him, tilting his head. He asked him something but he couldn't
    hear it, not really. It sounded funny. He felt funny. 
    
    Everything shifted, the same as earlier, forcing the room upward then
    down and up again. He fell back and when he landed, the surface under
    his back was hard.  Cold. 
    
    He felt something go around his wrists, pulling them upward and behind
    his neck. Holding them there. He moaned. Everything was fuzzy now. Pain
    was doubled. He opened his eyes, having to blink several times. 
    
    Faith stared down at him, her eyes dark and her head shaking. She looked
    at someone in back of him. "Think that oughta hold him?" 
    
    "Right now, we could hold him with dental floss and a stick.." The voice
    he didn't recognize. Young though. Maybe Faith's age. 
    
    She grinned. "Gee, Xan. Didn't know you were so kinky." 
    
    "Get the Constable. We've got a visitor." 
    
    "Damn. He must've grabbed some one on the way.  What's this?" 
     
    "Cards.  Must be a compulsive gambler." 
    
    "They're tarot cards.  Bring them to the Seeker or the Watcher." 
        
    *** 
    
    Calhoun stared at the place where Tom and Fraser had been just moments
    before. Gaping. What the hell had just happened? He shook his head in
    shock. "No..." This wasn't happening. Not at all. 
    
    He heard a moan from the floor. Kowalski?  Blood ran from his nose, which
    he quickly helped wipe away. "We have to get out of here. Now. Find some
    help."  
    He noticed the card still clutched in Prince Kowalski's hand and pried
    it free.  The Sun.  Several more were scattered on the floor.  He stooped
    to gather them up, glancing at the pictures as he did so. 
    
    The lovers.  A stained glass effect of a girl handing a boy a rose. 
    
    Death.  That little fuck Adolph. 
    
    The Pass.  Fortitude Pass.  He looked closely.  His cabin was incorporated
    into the painting.  The cabin where he'd slaughtered his family... 
    
    The Chariot.  The Riviera.  Calhoun almost laughed. 
    
    The Rose Princess.  Irene. 
     
    The Sacrifice. Tom. Laid out like his dream. No. 
    
    Water.  Lake Michigan. 
    
    Air.  Fraser saving Prince Kowalski on the sinking Henry Allen.  Calhoun
    shuddered at the notion.  God, how he hated water. Interesting place
    to be making out, though.  He'd better not let Tom see this card. 
    
    Earth.  An open grave. 
    
    Fire.  A gun. 
     
    The Returner. Faith? 
        
    What the hell kind of Tarot deck was this?  He looked under the bed and
    found two more. 
    
    The Alpha.  Marcus Ellery. 
    
    Sanctuary.  Open arms.  Impossible to tell if it was a man or a woman.
    He guessed it didn't matter. 
    
    He gathered the cards and put them into his coat pocket before he hauled
    his prince upright. 
    
    "F-frase?" slurred Kowalski, taking a look around.  He was dazed and
    his hair was a mess. 
    
    "They're gone," said Calhoun, trying to keep his voice under control.
    
    "Where're they?" 
    
    "No fucking clue, Prince Kowalski.  They vanished.  Now lets get the
    hell out of here before we're next." 
    
    "Wha 'bout Sophie n'Stella an' Ray n'stuff?" 
    
    "I'll ask Madam Vecchio to watch after her.  Vecchio can come with us."
    
    "Where?" 
    
    Calhoun paused, looking at him.  "Damn good question, Detective." 
        
    *** 
     
    "Constable?  Uh, we had a special.  Two for one on Slayers at Rite Aide."
    
    "What do you mean, Xander?" 
    
    The young man shifted nervously.  "We got two guys with that spell. 
    We got the demon guy you asked for and a spare." 
    
    Turnbull blinked.  This was unexpected.  "Who?" 
    
    "Tall.  Brown hair.  Real model material."  Xander blinked. "Not that
    I...would know, you know." 
    
    "Constable Fraser," sighed the Seeker, relieved.  It had been more than
    a year since he'd seen the Constable. 
    
    "Uh, the other guy was holding this."  Xander handed over the cards.
    
    A chill took Turnbull as he held the cards.  "Oh, no!  These belong in
    Chicago!"  
    
    "What are they?" 
    
    "A message. For Prince Kowalski, he..." Turnbull rubbed the bridge of
    his nose, distressed. "This isn't good. We'll have to move ahead of schedule.
    They need these cards." 
    
    *** 
    
    Faith hefted Tom onto the metal gurney, leaning his head back into the
    neck rest. "For what it's worth, Tom, I am sorry that it has to be this
    way." 
    
    "How can you...how are you alive? You died..." He gasped as the restraints
    behind his head were released and moved so that his hands were out at
    his sides, almost crucifixion style. 
    
    "Courtesy of Constable Turnbull." She brushed the hair out of his face
    then moved to his legs, locking them down. "It's not all your fault.
    Prince Kowalski should take some of the blame." Her hand brushed against
    his stomach, and she raised an eyebrow. "You've had the child." 
    
    "Sophia? Yes..." 
    
    "Good. That'll make it easier." 
    
    "Make what easier? Faith..." 
    
    She smiled at him, sadly. "I'm sorry, Tom." She looked up at the sound
    of leathery wings flapping. "Watcher, he's ready." 
    
    *** 
     
    "You know, I can tell you where I was when the Titanic sank, when the
    Great War started, during the Blitzkrieg, Pearl Harbor, V-E Day, Dien
    Bien Fu, the Hostage Crisis - you're welcome, by the way - the Challenger,
    Desert Storm...so where the fuck was I when fucking Armageddon hit?"
    
    "I think," Ray Kowalski said, choosing his words with care, "you were
    close to me." 
    
    They were seated in the GTO, not going anywhere yet, just sitting talking
    in the hospital parking lot.  Somehow, the sunlight didn't seem as bright
    and the city looked dingy, as if viewed through a dirty filter. 
    
    "And what the hell is /that/ supposed to mean?  Sire," he added sarcastically.
    
    His head still ached. It had been so long, he'd forgotten how used to
    the pain he'd become.  Ray took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
    Calhoun's use of 'sire' had jogged a memory of Fraser quoting Frobisher.
    
    /A blind Seer with the power of a knight, despised by the sun, betrayed
    by his sire.../ 
    
    His sire?  Ellery?  Aja?  Wyrm?  Damien?  His own father had disowned
    him long ago.  Ellery had used him to get to Lilith.  Aja...he would
    never.  But Wyrm...Wyrm needed and wanted him.  His link to the earth.
    The ghoulite prince with a soul.  They had struck a bargain.  This was
    the result.  A terrarium.  Held up and displayed for Wyrm's entertainment
    when the rest of the world went to hell.  God, they had been kept soooo
    blind. 
    
    But was it him or Tom? 
    
    /The seer the legend spoke of had dark hair and dark eyes.../ 
    
    His own hair was a deep forest green right now.  His eyes were back to
    black.  Had been for three years. 
    
    He became aware that Calhoun was still cursing out history. 
    
    "Cal?" 
    
    "What?" 
    
    "Shut up.  Listen to me for a sec."  He swallowed.  "I made a deal with
    Wyrm.  To change me back to a..." 
    
    "What you are," suggested Calhoun, remembering his promise to the Slayer.
    
    "Yeah.  He wanted to use me to channel to this plane.  I think..." 
    
    "You got screwed." 
    
    "Royally." 
    
    "That's usually the result of deals with the Wyrm." 
    
    "I think he's channeling through me all the time.  We got out own little
    snow-globe going on here in Chicago while the world outside gets trashed.
    That's why we haven't heard from Daniel or Cass or Turnbull.  They can't
    get back once they leave.  Adolph, too." 
    
    "Ray...Sophia was Wyrm's payment to Tom for having Adolph.  Tom wanted
    a perfect child that would love him.  He wanted /my/ child.  Wyrm...I..."
    
    Ray spared him.  "Wyrm made it so you could.  Okay.  This all started
    when Tom went into labor.  I've had this feelin' for a while, but when
    she was born, it hit the fan." 
    
    Calhoun looked stricken.  "He wants my daughter." 
    
    "I think you're right." 
    
    "I can't lose her, Prince Kowalski." 
    
    "You won't.  I won't let you.  Let's go find Vecchio."  
    
    *** 
    
    "Turnbull." Fraser's eyes opened slowly, shocked to see the Seeker hovering
    above him. He was out of uniform, in civilian clothes. What had happened?
    Where was he? 
    
    "Welcome to the real world, Constable." Turnbull smiled, sadly. "As it
    is." He looked towards the window, and Fraser followed his gaze. It was
    dark outside. Pitch black. The smell of rot and blood permeated the air.
    "Baltimore, to be exact." 
    
    "Baltimore..." Fraser blinked. "What time is it?" 
    
    "About a quarter after noon." 
    
    "Are you certain?" 
    
    Turnbull nodded, slowly. "For the past year, yes."  
    
    "What happened?" begged Fraser. 
    
    The Seeker's eyes were full of pain.  "Wyrm." 
        
    *** 
    
    Something wet and slimy was rubbed on his temples. He closed his eyes,
    shuddering as he recognized it for what it was. He breathed in deeply.
    "What are you doing?" 
    
    "Preparing you." The voice was older. Kinder. But gruffer and weary.
    "We need Adolph. We don't need you." 
    
    Well, that was always nice to hear. Tom took in another breath. He felt
    the leads pressing against his temples. "No...Please, don't." 
    
    "Turn it on, Faith." He heard it before he felt it. A slight whining
    as the electricity warmed up. And when it hit, he screamed. 
    
    *** 
    
    Adolph paused in mid flight, hearing his father's scream deep through
    his bones. It drove him frenzied. He needed to hear it again. And again.
    Needed to find the source and extinguish it... 
    
    And another part of him curled inward at the sound. Angered at those
    who caused his father such pain. He would hear them scream as such. 
    
    *** 
    
    And he screamed. 
    
    *** 
    
    Calhoun suddenly jumped, his head pounding hard. He was sitting in the
    Vecchio living room, staring outside. Everything was falling apart out
    there. Turning darker. Grimier. Where were all the people? 
    
    He felt Vecchio's hand on his shoulder. "Something's wrong," he said
    softly. 
    
    *** 
    
    Fraser looked up at the sound of screaming. Turnbull was helping him
    sit up. "Constable. Don't..." he warned, just as Fraser was off and running.
    
    "Not fond of listening, is he?" Xander quipped.  
    
    "Not when somebody's screaming like that.  Xander, go get the sergeant.
    Ask him to join us.  Are the others in position if Adolph shows up?"
    
    "Yup." 
                  
    "Good."  Turnbull hurried after Fraser. 
    
    For a moment Xander was still, then he shrugged.  "Geez.  Not like he
    doesn't deserve it." 
    
    *** 
    
    There were two people in the treatment room besides Tom.  He knew there
    were other people in the halls he maneuvered through but he didn't care.
    Tom was screaming, a loud, long, tortured scream and Fraser would have
    none of it. 
    
    He kicked the door in.  The people looked up, shocked. 
    
    Faith. 
    
    But she was dead. 
    
    There was an old man by a wall of electrical equipment.  Fraser pointed
    at him, his voice filled with an unspoken threat.  "Turn that off immediately,
    Doctor or you will regret it." 
    
    He waited.  The man obeyed. 
    
    "Now step away."  He glanced at Faith.  "You, too." 
    
    When they were in the corner, he hurried to Tom's side.  The psychic
    was shivering, drooling, trying to make his lips form a word. 
    
    "H-h-here!"  He swallowed.  "H-he's here!" 
    
    There was a faint rumble. 
    
    Fraser looked up.  Turnbull appeared in the door, likewise looking at
    the ceiling. 
    
    Suddenly Fraser was franticly trying to free Tom from the restraints.
    He clawed at the straps as the rumble grew louder.  The building began
    to shake.  Cracks appeared in the cement walls. 
    
    "Help me!" he shouted at Turnbull. 
    
    The Seeker didn't move. 
    
    "Help me, Turnbull!  That's an order!" 
    
    Rubble and dust dropped down onto the table.  Turnbull rushed into the
    chamber, helping his superior. 
    
    "Get out!" he screamed at Faith and the doctor.  "Now!" 
    
    The last restraint.  Fraser scooped Tom into his arms.  "Run!" 
    
    The ceiling exploded in a hail of metal and cement and wires.  Fraser
    staggered, only to have Turnbull haul him upright and shove him out the
    door. 
    
    "Now!" screamed the Seeker to the people in the hall. They were armed
    to the teeth. Watchers? Civilians? No one he recognized.  
    
    Adolph stood on the table as the dust and debris settled.  He threw his
    horned head back and let out a screaming hiss.  "Not so fast, Whore!"
    
    "Move!" ordered a new voice.  Fraser looked up in shock to see Sgt. Frobisher
    in the hall.  "Remember your positions!" 
    
    Still cradling Tom, Fraser was shoved out of the way as a team of people
    rushed into the room. The Seer was unconscious, the weight of whatever
    they had done to him had finally hit him. 
         
    "No!" he cried, knowing the inevitable results of a frontal attack on
    Tom's demon spawn.  Turnbull dragged him around the corner, away from
    the fight. 
    
    "What is going on here, Turnbull?" demanded Fraser. 
    
    Exasperated at his ill timing, Turnbull replied, "Constable Fraser, Sir,
    look around you.  Armageddon has hit.  Wyrm is in control of the world.
    Everything is in ruins except Chicago and that city is cut off from the
    rest of reality." 
    
    "Why Adolph?" 
    
    "He's Wyrm's running dog," spat the Mountie. 
    
    "Why Tom?" 
    
    "Because all of this is his fault."  He looked around the corner as screams
    reached their ears.  "Oh, my god..." 
    
    Fraser looked as well, just in time to see a body get thrown out the
    door.  It hit the wall with a sickening thud. 
    
    "They're getting slaughtered," breathed Turnbull. 
    
    Fraser set Tom down on the floor.  He locked gazes with the Seeker. 
    "I don't know why you blame Tom but right now I'm ordering you to protect
    him, Turnbull." 
    
    "Where are you going?" 
    
    Fraser found a splintered piece of wood.  "Where I'm needed." 
     
    *** 
    
    Faith had managed to jump onto the demon's back, and was trying to pin
    him down. "A little help here?" she called to the others. No one stepped
    forward. Wimps. She grinned as Fraser entered the room, glaring at her.
    "Constable. A little help from the Slayer born and bred?" 
    
    He stared at her. How could she be alive? He'd seen her body himself.
    Her death had not been pretty. In fact it had been quite gruesome. He
    shook those thoughts out of his head and jumped into the fray. 
    
    *** 
    
    Tom woke to a feeling of pain. His head was pounding. His whole body
    ached. But mostly he felt like he was being torn apart. He looked up
    at the ceiling, the sounds of a fight meeting his ears from very far
    away. 
    
    He could hear someone reciting something, and it sounded very familiar.
    From the Necronomicon. "Dad...?"  
    
    *** 
    
    Adolph whirled at the sound of a newcomer. His eyes narrowed and he shrugged
    Faith off of him. The young girl was thrown across the room, only to
    jump to her feet again. 
    
    "Slayer!" 
    
    "Move," ordered Fraser.  He knew how fast Adolph could be, how incredibly
    strong despite his diminutive size.  The demon gazed at him and a strange
    battle began. 
    
    Adolph would not touch him.  He was not teasing Fraser - both knew this
    was in deadly earnest - but he avoided letting the Slayer get a clear
    shot at him and never attacked him directly.  It was very strange to
    see the creature on the offensive. 
    
    There was a pause in the fight.  Adolph sneered but Fraser could see
    where Calhoun had shredded his wings, crippling the demon the last time
    they met. 
    
    "Where have you been, Adolph?" asked Fraser. 
    
    "Conquering the world, Slayer," he snapped.  "Slaughtering the masses.
    Freeing my father from his prison." 
    
    "You'll never live to see the day." 
    
    "There is no more day, fool, only night." 
    
    "Who helped you after Chicago?" 
    
    "Oh, you'll meet him soon enough.  If you live that long." 
    
    "I intend to." 
    
    He lunged, attacking the demon with all the speed and fury of a Slayer
    Born and Bred and Adolph, suddenly fighting for his life, was momentarily
    overwhelmed.  Fraser saw his chance, seized it and Adolph and slammed
    the demon into the bank of electronic equipment, driving the makeshift
    stake through his throat and into the machinery. 
    
    He was flung back as sparks exploded.  Unable to scream, Adolph flapped
    his wings and tried to free himself, burning all the while. 
    
    Strong hands pulled him back.  Faith.  Frobisher. 
    
    "Sergeant - what are you doing here?" Fraser stammered. 
    
    They pulled him out into the hall.  Daniel and Cassie were there, delighted
    to see Fraser despite the situation. 
    
    "Take care of him," ordered Frobisher.  "I'll take care of our friend."
    
    "He's not dead.  Just stunned," warned Fraser. 
    
    "I know, Benton.  Daniel..." 
    
    "Come on this way, Ben," urged Cassie, tugging on his arm.  She was eighteen
    now, a lovely young thing with her father's hair and pale brown eyes.
    She looked tired.  "The Seeker brought Dad back here, too." 
    
    She lead him to a room that was almost comfortably furnished.  Tom lay
    on the couch, Turnbull on a chair beside him. The obvious hatred the
    Seeker had for the Seer was almost palpable. "Turnbull? Why do you blame
    him?"  
    "We all blame him," Cassie whispered. "Some of us just more than others."
    
    "But..." 
    
    "He wanted James' child. He took a deal from Wyrm to get it." 
    
    "But he didn't know..." Fraser protested. 
    
    Faith sat beside Tom, letting his feet rest on her knees. "Oh, he knew.
    Didn't you, baby?"  
    
    Tom glared at her.  "Don't call me that." 
        
    *** 
    
    Warfield took Aja in his arms, nodding at Ray. "We'll take care of them.
    Just find out what's been done. Marco tells me only this morning he saw
    a woman walking around without her head." 
    
    Ray blinked. "You're joking." 
    
    "Yes. But be careful." 
    
    *** 
    
    "You knew?" 
    
    Tom stared back at Fraser, and shook his head. "Not...not exactly. No."
    
    "I don't understand." 
    
    "I knew something would happen," whispered Tom.  "I thought it would
    just be to me..." 
    
    Fraser frowned.  This didn't add up. 
    
    "No," he murmured.  "Don't blame Tom.  Wyrm was rising and if it wasn't
    Tom, it would have been someone...else..." 
    
    His own words struck him. 
    
    Ray.  Only Ray was capable of doing this. 
    
    "Constable?" 
    
    A shouldering anger lit the Mounted Slayer's eyes as he looked at Turnbull,
    then at Faith. 
    
    "It's Ray.  Not Tom, Ray!  My Ray!  The one /you/ turned back into a
    hybrid!  Wyrm channels through Ray!  He was keeping the city safe until
    Sophia was born!  And /you/ said you were going to save him, Seeker!
    How dare you hold this man solely responsible for the state of the world!
    You're as much to blame as any of us!" 
    
    Turnbull's blue eyes were wide with shock. 
    
    "Sophia was payment for Adolph," Tom muttered.  "That was all.  But Wyrm
    saw to it she was born with James' stigma.  She has no soul." 
    
    Fraser's expression softened at the abject misery in Tom's voice. 
    
    "So I made another deal with Wyrm.  /She/ is now the Slayer Born, not
    me.  He wants her to kill Adolph and then he'll give her...Alice's soul."
    His voice cracked.  Tears were running down his face. 
    
    "Alice?" asked Faith in scathing tones. 
    
    Fraser's glare shut her up.  "Jamey's daughter." 
    
    "God doesn't seem to care about her," Tom continued, as much to himself
    as the others.  "I couldn't live knowing she was damned.  And I couldn't
    tell James..." 
    
    "Huh," she grunted, unimpressed. 
    
    It was the Seeker's turn to glare.  "Faith, remove yourself.  Now." 
    
    "I'm sorry-" she began, clearly anything but. 
    
    "Too late," snapped Fraser, glad to be rid of her.  With a huff she shoved
    Tom's legs off of her and stomped out. 
    
    "Wyrm wants Adolph dead?" wondered Cassie nervously.  "Why?  Isn't Adolph
    his right hand man?  Demon.  Whatever." 
    
    "Toady is more like it," said Frobisher, entering the room.  "Odd that
    he didn't attack you, Benton." 
    
    "I was thinking the same thing." 
    
    "Have you seen your father lately?" 
    
    "Not for three years." 
    
    Frobisher nodded.  "Maybe now you will." 
    
    "Where's Adolph?" asked Turnbull. 
    
    Frobisher jerked his thumb towards the door.  "Daniel has him all tied
    up in a spell.  We've got to move out.  We don't have many people left."
    
    "I know," Turnbull said softly.  "Sergeant, we have to get to Chicago."
    He displayed the Tarot deck.  "Ray needs these there.  The deck isn't
    complete." 
    
    "Oh, dear," said the old Slayer.  "Chicago..." 
    
    "Is there any way we can contact them?" asked Fraser.  "Ray was in the
    midst of a flash when you pulled us here.  He hasn't had one since...in
    three years.  Since he became a hybrid again." 
    
    Turnbull nodded.  "That's good news, sir.  We may get an idea of what
    to expect.  Let's go." 
    
    "What about Adolph?" wondered Tom. 
    
    Frobisher smiled.  "He's not going anywhere for a while." 
    
    Tom looked down, shaking his head. "I can't go." 
    
    "Why not? Surely you want to return to James..." 
    
    "I can't leave /him/." He nodded towards the wall he knew his son was
    behind. "I won't." 
    
    "He'll destroy you," Frobisher protested, looking to Fraser for help.
    The look on the Slayer Born and Bred's face was shocking. 
    
    Fraser shook his head. "He won't, will he?" 
    
    "No. He'll want to. But he won't."  With that, Tom left the room. 
    
    Turnbull shook his head. "He's a fool." 
    
    "Careful, son." Frobisher warned. 
    
    *** 
    
    Calhoun had just gotten off the phone with the Sabbat, having told them
    to dig themselves holes and wait for orders. He was digging through Tom's
    closet, looking for something. He wasn't sure what, exactly. He just
    knew he had to find it. Fast. 
    
    A shoebox toppled to the floor, and spilled it's contents. Photographs.
    Papers. That had to be it. Carefully, he swept everything back in, and
    dumped it all on the bed. He dug through snapshots of Aja, Cassie, Adolph
    (How had he gotten those?) and what he could only hope was a failed attempt
    to take a photograph of him. Polaroids of the others, Tom's friends.
    His father. Cecil and his children. Even a few of Faith. 
    
    As he flipped each photograph over, he saw a message written on the backs.
    But they weren't written in any language James Calhoun knew. 
    
    Cassette tapes. Labeled Channel 1, Channel 2, Channel 3, and so forth.
    Papers scrawled over with symbols he didn't recognize, again in the languages
    he didn't know. He felt someone looking over his shoulder and glanced
    back at Welsh. 
    
    Kowalski must have picked him up earlier. Great.  He could use the company
    and the Watcher's input. 
    
    Welsh noticed Calhoun's confusion. "Sumerian," he pointed to each language
    in turn. "Greek. Arabic. Pnakotic, a very old form of Latin and....R'leyhian.
    Looks like Mr. Grissom is quite the linguist."  
    
    Calhoun frowned.  Outside of some spells, Tom didn't speak or read word
    one of any other language than English.  "Can you read any of this?"
    
    "Not a lot of it, but maybe your kid Adam can." Watchers were trained
    to recognize languages, not necessarily to read them. 
    
    "He's not my kid, he's my lord.  Let's get this to him."  His gaze went
    over to Tom's copy of the Necronomicon.  Rising, he pulled it off the
    shelf.  "I'm almost tempted to have Prince Kowalski touch that again
    just to find out what the hell Wyrm is up to." 
    
    "We'll see about that later."  Welsh gathered up the pictures and papers.
    "Right now, let's get this stuff to Adam." 
    
    "He's at Warfield's.  So is your mother-in- law." 
    
    "I know.  Francesca told me.  She'll be staying there, too." 
    
    "How soon before he returns?  Any idea?" 
    
    "He won't be too long.  The precinct's not too far from here." 
    
    Calhoun dug in his pocket.  "Did Prince Kowalski tell you about these?"
    He handed over the Tarot cards. 
    
    "Never saw a deck like this.  What's with this 'air'?  And the chariot."
    The lieutenant chuckled.  "Where are the rest?" 
    
    "Tom has them, where ever he is." 
    
    "You don't seem too worried." 
    
    "I am, trust me.  But Tom's linked to me psychically.  I'd know if something
    bad happened."  He caught the look in Welsh's eyes.  "He doesn't know
    I know.  I think it's for his own peace of mind." 
    
    "Just so long as it's not the last one." 
    
    They gathered the box and the book and waited outside for Ray to return
    from his raid on the 27th's armory.  Calhoun hesitated, then hurried
    back and took the bible box containing the story of his life as well.
    
    *** 
    
    Faith closed the door to the study behind her. "Tom." He was watching
    over Adolph as only a parent could. With love. And worry. "Tom, I am
    sorry." 
    
    "I know. How..." 
    
    "Turnbull. He um...brought me back. Kind of.  I'm the early edition Faith."
    
    He nodded, understanding. "You don't remember it, do you? Lilith? Stabbing
    me?" 
    
    "Nah. Kinda goes blank after I left the sanitarium." She tilted her head,
    rubbing her arms. "And now we're both back at 'Go.'  Those things they
    said I did...I'm sorry.." 
    
    He shrugged. "No big." 
    
    "Yeah. Right." She took a step closer. "Tom..." 
    
    He recognized the tone of voice and shook his head.  "I owe James too
    much, Faith." 
    
    "He's the Sabbat, right?" 
    
    "That's the easiest thing to call him.  He's...he's everything at this
    point." 
    
    She was watching his eyes, his expression.  "I can tell." 
    
    Tom blushed, looking back at Adolph. 
    
    "Tom, you can't stay here." 
    
    "He needs me." 
    
    "What about James?  And Sophia?  And Adam and Cassie and your friends
    back in Chicago?  Would you throw them all away for /him/?  Would you
    walk away from James' daughter for /him/?" 
    
    He dropped his gaze.  "I guess I'm not thinking too clearly." 
    
    "You're thinking like a father, not a Slayer." 
    
    "I'm not a Slayer anymore." 
    
    She snorted.  "If not Born, then Bred, Tommy.  It's like riding a bike.
    You've got the skills and not the power.  I don't think your Mountie
    friend is going to let you off the hook so easy." 
    
    He nodded, remembering James' face as he held his daughter.  The joy
    and awe in the vampire's voice as he whispered her name.  Sophia Grania.
    Wisdom and grace.  He'd forgotten to tell James he wanted her last name
    to be Calhoun, not Grissom... 
    
    "Let's go to Chicago," he whispered.  "There's something I have to tell
    James." 
    
    *** 
    
    Aja held the papers in his hands. The Latin, the Sumerian he knew. Understood
    the messages that Tom had been trying to convey, or at least a subconscious
    part of him. His father had been seeing, apparently, and storing the
    results in his closet. 
    
    The words in Sumerian and Latin were mainly image words. Dark. Worms.
    Fire. Cold. Things of the like. He looked up at Ray and James. "Was he
    having dreams?" 
    
    "Sometimes. Nightmares. He wouldn't tell me..." Calhoun shook his head.
    He was seated at the mahogany table, Sophia cradled in his arms.  "He
    wouldn't say what of but I did notice they came close to the full moon."
    
    "Who would he tell?" Ray asked. He was worried about Fraser. Scared stiff
    was more like it. Where had they gone? What if they were dead? It was
    unbearable. 
    
    Aja sensed his worry, his panic. He smiled, and squeezed Ray's arm. "They'll
    be all right, Raymond."  
    "I think if he told anyone, it would be Fraser or Vecchio.  Hell, he
    told Vecchio he was pregnant."  Calhoun pointed towards the symbols on
    the photographs. "What do those mean?" 
        
    Aja peered at them. "I don't recognize them." 
    
    "Welsh said they were R'ley or something." 
    
    "R'leyhian? Oh dear..."  Aja didn't speak the language, didn't know anyone
    who did. It was the language of Wyrm, of the dark older gods who came
    before the time of Adam and Eve. 
    
    "Oh, and these came.  We think from Frobisher or Turnbull."  Calhoun
    produced the handful of Tarot cards left them.  Ray reached out to pass
    them to Caine and got his hand smacked by Calhoun instead. 
    
    "Don't you touch anything, Prince Kowalski.  The last thing we need is
    you going freaker on us again."  He rose and walked the cards over to
    Caine.  The child king's eyes grew huge and for one moment, all Calhoun
    could see was Tom the first time the psychic had laid eyes on the Sabbat
    Elder on his doorstep. 
    
    "This...I need the rest of these cards." 
    
    "Yer dad has 'em," said Ray. 
    
    "We must have them." 
        
    *** 
    
    Tom stared at the locked door, head tilted. "What's down there?" 
    
    "Dunno," Faith shook her head. "Turnbull doesn't like anyone down there.
    He said it's dangerous." 
    
    Tom quickly picked the lock and pushed open the door. As he went down
    the stairs, she shook her head. "Screw Turnbull." 
    
    "I'd rather not.  His wife's a vampire."  
    
    Downstairs was dark and damp.  Typical basement.  They stood on the stairs,
    eyes straining in the darkness.  There was movement in the darkness.
    Large figures.  Awkward and jerky.  He stared at the lurching figures,
    surprise in his eyes. "Patients?" 
        
    The look of Faith's face...."Kendra?" she gaped at one figure. 
    
    *** 
    
    Turnbull gave an oof as the Slayer threw him against the wall. "What've
    you done?" she demanded, hissing. She struggled as Fraser and Frobisher
    tried to pull her off him. "What are they?" 
    
    "Who-" he gasped, pained. He felt something cold against his back. A
    gun? 
    
    A mirror gun. It didn't matter he wasn't demon. In the hands of a Slayer,
    even a former one such as Tom, it was deadly. "Who brought them back?
    Did that to them?" Tom demanded.  
    
    Fraser's voice was at a dangerous tone.  "Put that gun down now, Tom.
    Now!" 
    
    "I want the Seeker to give me some answers, Fraser.  He's so good at
    his own agenda.  Maybe he can explain the zombies in the basement." 
    
    A flash of horror across Fraser's face was his only reaction.  No matter
    what happened, he would not allow the impulsive psychic to kill Turnbull.
    
    "Why did you go down there?" demanded Turnbull. 
    
    Silence. 
    
    "You went down because I said not to, Tom, isn't that correct?  Because
    you have to defy every rule established.  And now you threaten me," said
    the Seeker softly.  "Has it ever occurred to you, Mr. Grissom, that rules
    are made to protect?" 
    
    "There's a dozen zombie Slayers down there!" 
    
    "Eleven, actually, now that I've managed to restore Faith somewhat."
    
    "What the hell are you saying?" hissed Tom. 
    
    Ordered Fraser, "Put the gun down, Tom." 
    
    Reluctantly, he obeyed. 
    
    "This sanitarium was Watcher territory," stated Turnbull.  "I am a Seeker.
    Do not confuse the two titles.  Yes, Tom, I have my own agenda, but ultimately,
    my agenda is not my own but the world's.  I am fighting to restore the
    world and it is not always a very kind or pretty process."  He adjusted
    his shirt in the absence of his tunic.  "The Watchers - American Watchers,
    mind you, the same ones that performed the Cruciamentum on you the day
    Adolph was born - were experimenting with the Slayer genetics.  Unlike
    the Canadians, they didn't have the patience to breed their Slayers.
    Fearing they had gotten into the game too late for a successful breeding
    program, they turned to the dead.  They tried to raise them with questionable
    results.  Their last attempt was Faith, just last year before the sun
    was blocked." 
    
    Turnbull looked over at the young girl.  She gazed at him, shocked at
    these revelations, her hate and anger melting away. 
    
    "The others I could do nothing for except restore Kendra's power of speech
    and give several of them vision.  They were too inexpertly raised and
    left too long without help.  /They/ were the ones who asked me to lock
    the door, Tom.  I would never do such a thing to any creature, alive
    or undead, unless I had no choice.  They didn't want to be seen or reminded
    of what they had once been.  I have done as much as I can for them and
    I wish to God there was more I could do but they are doomed.  One more
    unkindness for us to fight, Mr. Grissom." 
    
    Tom looked as if he was about to be sick.  The Mirror smasher clattered
    to the ground and he wrapped his arms tight around his middle.  Shoving
    his own anger aside, Fraser walked over and enveloped the younger man
    in a warm embrace. Tom clung to him, his friend despite all his hot-headed
    conduct over the years, desperately fighting to control his tears. 
    
    Xander popped into the room and immediately sensed the emotional intensity
    in the air.  He spotted Tom and Fraser before the others and gave a squeak
    before clapping a hand over his eyes. 
    
    "Okay, carry on, men, I'm leaving!" and he did just that. 
    
    Faith shook her head.  Frobisher did the same for a totally different
    reason.  Turnbull didn't even notice them. 
    
    "I saw them," gasped Tom.  "I saw them all in my dreams.  They're still
    aware.  They know.  They understand.  Oh, god, it's not fair!  They don't
    want this!" 
    
    "I know," Turnbull replied. 
    
    "I've seen them, too," whispered Fraser, feeling tears in his own eyes.
    
    "How many of them?" Tom couldn't bear to look at Turnbull, no matter
    what the Seeker said. "How many are there?" 
    
    "All of them." 
    
    Tom choked. "All of them?" 
    
    "From the first daughter of Eve to Kendra." 
    
    A thought suddenly occurred to Fraser. "Marianne Calhoun?" 
    
    Tom stared at him surprised. 
    
    *** 
    
    Ray picked up the cassette Labeled Day One, and showed it to Calhoun.
    "What's this?" 
    
    "Dunno. Looks old, though." 
    
    "Put it in." 
    
    Calhoun made a face at his prince, and took the tape. Vecchio watched
    as the Sabbat Elder walked across the living room and popped the tape
    in a player. 
    
    He should've known Melfi was trouble. 
     
    Actually, he probably should have killed her that first day. 
    
    The tape started and they recognized the doctor's voice.  She apparently
    had Tom under deep hypnosis and had started the tape as soon as she started
    questioning him. 
    
    "What d'you see, Tom?" 
    
    "I see...I see dark. The sun. I can see the sun. It's...gone...dark.
    I can hear them screaming...scream...souls. Screaming souls. Shrieking.
    So much pain." 
    
    "Who's in pain?" 
    
    "Everyone. Burning. Shrieking. It's too much. I can...I can't." 
    
    "Breathe deep. Again. Good. Again. Now tell me what you see...." 
    
    ""Ia N'goth est dhole la bhole fhtagn ia Wyrm. Ia cha..." Tom's voice
    was almost frantic. He spoke quickly and over Melfi's protests. More
    words that the three didn't understand and made Aja pale. "Sub...sub
    wyrm...sub terra...cai iaggo de...es...." 
    
    "Tom? I can't understand you...Tom!" 
    
    "In Shaggai...under darker Thoth. He's waiting...the world. Eater of
    worlds. He's...he's done this before. Never fought. Won. Always...I can't..."
    
    "All right. Ok...take a breath. At the count of three, you'll wake up.
    And forget." 
    
    Calhoun blinked.  Forget?  How the hell could Tom forget /that/?  He
    looked to Caine.  "My lord?  Did you understand any of what he just said?"
    
    The boy nodded.  "To my fear, Elder." 
    
    *** 
    
    Fraser sat with Turnbull and the Seeker quietly returned the deck of
    Tarot cards. 
    
    "You made them?" wondered Fraser. 
    
    "Yes. A series of increasingly strange dreams prompted me." 
    
    Fraser flipped through the cards.  "Why is Frobisher here?" 
    
    "We're both here because our country's neighbor needed us.  The Watchers
    were anxious about the increasing number of insanity cases here in the
    city.  We were trying to figure out the cause when...all this happened.
    We haven't been able to get home, so we continued working." 
    
    "Is it anarchy out there?" 
    
    "There's not enough populace for anarchy. It's more like...survivors."
    
    "We've got to get back to Chicago." 
    
    "I know.  Why did you want to know about Marianne Calhoun?" 
    
    "Is she down there?" 
    
    "Yes." 
    
    "Can she speak?" 
    
    "Yes." 
    
    "Did you...tell her about Jamey?" 
    
    "Yes.  She's still in love with him.  I think she would be glad to know
    he's found Tom.  And has a daughter." 
    
    "Where is Tom?" 
    
    "He went down to the basement again." 
    
    *** 
    
    Aja pressed his fingers into his forehead, rubbing his temples lightly.
    He felt old beyond his years. "As near as I can understand it, he was
    telling her that In Chicago, Shaggai, Under Darker Earth, Thoth, someone
    is waiting. The Eater of Worlds is Wyrm." 
    
    Ray sighed, feeling for Aja. He rubbed the child's shoulders, and smiled.
    "And the other stuff? The doles and the boles, and the goths?" 
    
    "Ia N'goth est dhole la bhole fhtagn ia Wyrm." Aja let out a breath.
    "I'm not sure. N'goth could be Adolph. Fhtagn is rise from." 
    
    "Adolph and Dhole of Bhole rise from Wyrm," Calhoun suddenly whispered.
    He looked at Aja. "Right?" 
    
    *** 
    
    Marianne smiled at Tom, her smile was awkward and weak. He voice was
    lurchy and odd. As if she had not used it in years. "Thank you...for
    giving him a family." 
    
    Tom nodded, gripping her hands tightly. "I don't know what to do...I
    shouldn't have passed her the powers, but I..." He couldn't finish. 
    
    She nodded, understanding. "You chose for love. Because you cannot fight
    your son." 
    
    "Yes." 
    
    "Occasionally, I wish I hadn't loved James so much...that way I might
    have..been able to subdue him...made him see..." 
    
    Tom looked up. "Yes?" 
    
    "Yes." She smiled again. "It is likely you who are to sow the seeds of
    doubt in your son's mind. Nurture it...."  
    
    She broke off as Kendra approached, glaring.  "You doomed us all!" 
    
    /Nothing wrong with her voice/, thought Tom bitterly, bracing himself
    for the onslaught. 
        
    *** 
     
    "Prince Kowalski?" asked Marco.  The vampire hesitated at the door to
    Kowalski's room when he spotted Calhoun.  None of the Giovanni or Tremere
    could ever completely resolve themselves to a Sabbat in their midst,
    especially one to whom they owed so much. 
    
    Calhoun was flat-out amused at their discomfort and did nothing to put
    any of them at their ease.  Only Zuko and Warfield seemed ready to stand
    up to Calhoun and it was with calculated deliberation that he never gave
    them a reason to. 
    
    "Whassup, Marco?" 
    
    "Prince Warfield requests your presence." 
    
    "'Kay," he responded, handing the pictures back to Calhoun.  They had
    been going through the pictures Tom had jammed in the box, trying to
    get them in some sort of order. 
    
    "Your Watcher has arrived to see his wife." 
    
    "You /can/ call her Frannie, Marco." 
    
    "Prince Warfield insists otherwise." 
    
    "God, Warfield loves titles.  Are you anything yet?" 
    
    "No, Prince." 
    
    "Give 'em a few more days, he'll come up with something, I promise."
    
    Welsh was with Frannie in the sitting room.  They both looked up as Ray
    entered. 
    
    "Hey, Lieu!" 
    
    "Never thought I'd see the day I'm looking to the Giovanni for help."
    
    "Never thought I'd be related to you, either." 
    
    "We're still not." 
    
    "Keep tellin' yerself that, sir.  Any news?" 
    
    "Mort recognized a few words, nothing much.  I passed it on to Adam already.
    Huey and Dewey are trying to find some answers, too.  Communications
    are getting sketchy at best and we're piecing together a lot of weird
    events.  Psychic phenomena are up off the charts lately." 
    
    "And no 13th to deal with them.  Damn." 
    
    "Have you...seen any dead lately?" wondered Welsh carefully, fully aware
    of how much Ray hated his ability to talk to the dead. 
    
    "No, but I haven't left here, either.  They know better than to hang
    out here. I haven't seen anybody dead for three years, not even Fraser's
    dad or Louis.  /That's/ what really got me wondering about all this."
    
    Frannie smiled.  "You were acting too normal, huh, bro?" 
    
    "Normal fer me, anyway." 
    
    *** 
    
    Kendra had him edged against the wall. He was afraid. No way could he
    fight her, even if he wanted to, not in his condition. Not without a
    Slayer's power. She could crush him easily. 
    
    "Kendra. Stop...he had no...choice..." Marianne slowly pulled the younger
    Slayer away. "You would've...done the same..." 
    
    "I never had the chance..." 
    
    "You were...never a parent...Not his fault." Marianne leaned forward,
    almost conspiratorially. The two women communicated silently, and finally
    Kendra nodded. "It will be done." 
    
    "What will...?" wondered Tom. 
    
    "You'll be given a chance." 
    
    He blinked, not understanding. "A chance?" 
    
    "To prove your worth." She stepped back. "As a father. And as a Slayer."
    
    *** 
    
    Calhoun finally finished the monumental task of putting the cards in
    order and was planning on a little hunting when he heard the distinct
    sounds of a three-year old running. 
        
    Aja grabbed the box of photos from Calhoun, pulling them out suddenly.
    The symbols...He gasped, looking up at the Sabbat. 
    
    "My lord?" 
    
    "James, the cards!" 
    
    Without question, Calhoun handed over the scant handful of cards to his
    young lord. 
    
    "They match!" 
    
    He hurried back to the sitting room where he had papers scattered all
    over the tables and sofa. 
        
    "What?" Frannie leaned over, looking at the photos and each card in turn.
    "My God...they all kinda match.  At least the poses." 
    
    Ray stared, shaking his head, looking up from where he was holding Sophia
    for Dief to see.  The werewolf never seemed to tire of the babies.  "What
    matches?" 
    
    "Each card has a tiny symbol next to its title. The symbols match those
    on the photographs." 
    
    "See?"  Frannie held up a photograph of Tom standing in front of one-year
    old Adam, feet together, arms spread wide.  He was smiling as he looked
    down at the baby.  Then she lifted the card, Tom spread out as if he
    was being crucified. 
    
    *** 
    
    Adolph blinked himself awake, partially. He could remember his father
    whispering to him before the bitch Slayer dead came in. A warning. He
    could barely remember the words but the love behind them.... 
    
    Frightening. 
    
    What did the whore care if he returned to Chicago or not? 
    
    *** 
    
    Ray Kowalski handed Sophia to her father and leaned over Aja to see.
    "Okay.  They match.  Now what?" 
    
    Caine shook his head, wishing he had an answer as simple as his son's
    question.  "Now we have to figure how and why and how we can use those
    answers to our benefit." 
    
    "Oh.  Sounds good.  So...what's this match up with?"  He touched the
    card of Fire.  The gun.  His gun. 
    
    "No!" cried Calhoun, unable to lunge and stop him with Sophia in his
    arms. 
    
    Ray froze. 
    
    Burning. 
    
    Blackness. 
    
    Burning. 
    
    Falling. 
    
    Burning. 
    
    Blood. 
    
    Burning. 
    
    Fraser, cool to the touch. 
    
    While he burned. 
    
    Suddenly his hand was slapped away.  Ray blinked in surprise as Frannie
    snatched away the card.  There was a brown singe mark where his finger
    had touched it.  
    Almost hypnotically, his fingers reached out, grabbing a photograph from
    the stack and slamming it down on top of the card. He opened his eyes,
    and as one they all looked down at the card. A photograph of Ray in his
    uniform.  The symbols matched. A blood red tear drop.  His gun was drawn
    in the picture as he chambered a round in it. 
    
    "Try it again," Aja whispered, handing his son another card. The Sacrifice
    card. Ray took it, closing his eyes again. 
    
    Pain. Intense pain. 
    
    Screaming. 
    
    Fear. 
    
    Tom. Tom was afraid. 
    
    Tom was dying. Inside and out. 
    
    Blood. 
    
    Cold. 
    
    Fear. 
    
    Metal. 
    
    Adolph. Adolph killing? 
    
    No. 
    
    Adolph trying to...stop? 
    
    He yanked open his eyes, pulling two photos out of the stack. Adolph
    and what appeared to be an attempt to take a photograph of himself. 
    
    When had Tom done this? They would have remembered him spending all this
    time writing on photographs, taking weird photos. 
    
    "Maybe we need to talk to Dr. Melfi." 
    
    *** 
    
    Tom sat beside Adolph on the cart they were using to bring the Wyrm Child
    outside. AS they reached their destination, Turnbull brought the caravan
    of followers to a halt. 
    
    "Slay...whore...where are we..." Adolph tried to get out. Tom shook his
    head, squeezing the claw like hand. For some reason Adolph found it comforting.
    Another bother. 
    
    Tom looked up, "What're we doing?" 
    
    "We have to open a gateway. WE can't get into Chicago without one." 
    
    Fraser tilted his head, looking at the younger man. "How can we do this?"
    
    "We need the blood of the child." Turnbull took out his pocket knife,
    and stepped towards Adolph. Tom stared then shook his head. "We must.
    Tom." 
    
    "No, you..." He heard a rumble from behind him, and turned his head just
    in time to see the Sanitarium go up in a ball of fire. He gasped, feeling
    a surge go through him. Then another. 
    
    And another. 
    
    And another. 
    
    A hundred times over. It hurt. It hurt a lot. It was like being electrocuted.
    He felt Adolph's claws dig in and it was almost a balance. 
    
    "What..." Turnbull started, the ground was shaking. Why? What was happening?
    He grabbed for Fraser's shoulder as he fell. Mina was at his side quickly.
    The three stared at the black and red lights seemed to glow from within
    the Seer. He was in pain. 
    
    No one noticed Adolph's binds loosening. 
    
    *** 
    
    Calhoun winced at a strange ache in the back of his head. He handed Ray
    his coat and shrugged on his own. "You're sure you're up to this?" 
    
    Ray nodded. "Of course. Maybe she knows something about all this." 
    
    Aja smiled. "I don't doubt that." 
    
    *** 
    
    Adolph fought to release himself from his bindings and flew to a hovering
    position quickly. His claws were still clasped around his father's forearm
    and he could see that it was causing him pain. 
    
    Along with a thousand other things. 
    
    He glared around, snarling at those who were attempting to retake him.
    AS the light around his father died, he suddenly pulled the man into
    an odd looking hug and took off. 
    
    "No...don..." 
    
    "Daddy?" 
    
    "Yes?" 
    
    "Shut up."  
    
    "TOM!" 
    
    He looked down from dizzying heights at Fraser and wondered if the Slayer
    Born and Bred had felt any of what he had just experienced. 
    
    "Where are we going?" 
    
    "Home." 
    
    "Home?" 
    
    "You'll see..." 
    
    *** 
    
    "Quickly," ordered Turnbull, tugging at Fraser's sleeve.  "This way,
    sir." 
    
    Fraser turned.  Behind them, the sanitarium was a smoking ruin, taking
    with it the unfortunate Slayers of years past.  Marianne...poor Marianne.
    
    "Well, Constable, so much for plan 'A'," Frobisher was commenting in
    calm tones, as if the earth wasn't trembling beneath them.  "Time for
    plan 'B'." 
    
    "Unfortunately," agreed the Seeker.  He looked at his resources.  Faith,
    Xander, Daniel, Fraser, Frobisher, the two American Watchers: Dr. Howe
    and Preenish Lowe, and himself.  Pathetic. 
    
    "Doctor Howe?  Doctor Lowe?" 
    
    "Don't apologize, Seeker," said the elderly man with a significant look
    at the dark-skinned woman beside him.  "We can at least try to atone
    for some of what we've done in this life.  We knew what we were doing
    was immoral.  Let us do this." 
    
    "What is he talking about?" whispered Fraser to Turnbull. 
    
    "They are going to get us to Chicago," Turnbull replied quietly. He handed
    the doctor his pocket knife. 
    
    The doctor took the knife, quietly. Fraser was not prepared when the
    man stabbed first his assistant, then himself. And he was not prepared
    for the tiny worms that poured forth from their bodies.  Nor was he prepared
    for the countless worms to fight and kill each other until one remained
    and that one Turnbull slew for its blood to open a door to Ray Kowalski.
    He was too shocked to scream.  Too sickened to vomit.  Too traumatized
    to do more than obey the Seeker. 
    
    *** 
    
    The sunlight was waning as they hurried to the GTO.  Ray flinched despite
    his sun glasses.  The light was dirty, almost, dusty-looking, and he
    could feel it too hot on his skin. The darkness was starting to come.
    The cracks in their little terrarium were widening.  He hesitated. 
    
    "Prince Kowalski?" 
    
    Ray leaned against the car.  Something was so not right here.  He looked
    up. 
    
    Ellery.  The long-dead Elder that had forced Ray to drink his blood.
    
    "Get away from me, you bastard!" He wheeled back, panting. 
    
    Calhoun blinked, looking around for whomever Ray was calling by his usual
    nickname. 
    
    "Prince Kowalski?" The voice was familiar. 
    
    Winslow.  Torn to shreds from Adolph's claws. Her back broken from Tom's
    shove. She looked at him with eyes full of hate.  He had beaten her at
    her own game and now she came to plague him. 
    
    /Get away, Ray/, ordered a calm voice.  Louis.  He had a glimpse of curly
    hair and a ready smile. 
    
    "Help..." whispered Ray, closing his eyes.  He felt Calhoun's strong
    hands steady him then walk him to the passenger side of the car. 
    
    "What do you see?" demanded Calhoun, strapping on his seat belt. 
    
    "Ellery." 
    
    "He can't hurt you again, Prince Kowalski," promised the Sabbat, starting
    up the GTO and shifting it into gear. 
    
    "He hurts...still." He took in several deep breaths. "And Winslow..."
    
    "That bitch is here?  Point 'er out so I can run her over." 
    
    Ray nodded, feeling his hands start to tremble.  He swallowed, keeping
    his eyes closed.  His stomach lurched. 
    
    "Cal?" 
    
    "Yes?" 
    
    "I don'...I don' feel right." 
    
    Right in the middle of rush hour traffic, the GTO screeched to a halt.
    
    "What is it?" 
    
    Ray shifted, rubbing his arms, afraid to admit to himself what was happening.
    
    "Don' stop here," he whispered, frightened of getting rear-ended. 
    
    With a snarl, Calhoun drove a few blocks and pulled into the parking
    lot opposite the 13th Precinct, still an abandoned shell.  As soon as
    they stopped, Ray fumbled to release himself and would have fallen out
    of the car if Calhoun had not rushed to catch him. 
    
    The vampire prince was shaking and afraid, his voice a mere whisper.
    "I...don' want...this...Oh, god, please...no..." 
    
    "Prince Kowalski!" 
    
    He gasped. 
    
    Calhoun echoed the sound. 
    
    Ray had fangs. 
    
    He was going over again. 
    
    Quickly, the Sabbat pulled him into a tight hug, holding him close. 
    Kowalski neither wanted nor deserved this.  He could feel the scrawny
    body convulse and the prince cried out in pain.  They both fell to their
    knees, Kowalski clinging to him desperately, burying his face in Calhoun's
    shoulder as he felt his body change. 
    
    Suddenly there was a shift in the air itself.  An odd sound filled the
    air, not a humming or a whine, just a sound painful to the vampires'
    sensitive ears.  Calhoun tore his attention away from Kowalski for a
    moment, knowing he was not the target of this strange new presence. 
    Kowalski was.  And Calhoun knew he would defend his prince to the last
    against whatever it was. 
    
    Sensing it too, Ray lifted his head and glanced towards his old precinct
    and suddenly shielded his eyes against a sudden bright light. He saw
    Calhoun do the same. When it died down, they gaped. 
        
    "Fraser?" breathed Ray, awed.  He struggled to his feet and stumbled
    towards the Mountie.  Fraser rushed to him, catching Ray in a powerful
    embrace as if he would never let the American go.  
    
    "Ray...oh, god, Ray..." 
        
    Calhoun stood as well, staring at Turnbull, Daniel. "Cass..." he whispered
    and continued to search.  Another Mounted Slayer, clearly a Watcher,
    and a nervous young boy.  Where was...? 
    
    "Adolph took him," Cassie whispered, taking his hand. "We had to go quickly.
    There was no time to find him."  
    
    For one horrible moment all the fear in the world was reflected in the
    Sabbat's pale eyes.  Then he saw Faith. 
    
    An inhuman hiss escaped his throat and instantly he was on the verge
    of frenzy.  Xander fell over as he tried to put some distance between
    himself and the out of control Elder, but Turnbull placed himself before
    the girl. 
    
    "No!  Jamey, no!  Don't!" 
    
    "I'll kill that fucking bitch again - " 
    
    "It's not her!  She's not the one who hurt Tom!"  Turnbull seized his
    arms, struggling to hold him back.  Strong as he was, he was grossly
    outmatched.  "Prince Kowalski!  Help me!" 
    
    Ray looked up from Fraser's shoulder.  "Cal," he whispered. 
    
    The Sabbat froze unwillingly, glaring hard at the Seeker and the Slayer
    behind him. 
    
    "There you go," muttered the old Mountie.  "Cal is the magic word here."
    
    "Let's hear them ou-ah!" 
    
    He winced in a spasm of pain.  Immediately frightened, Fraser loosened
    his grip to examine his lover.  Shock filled his eyes when Ray lifted
    his head, panting, displaying the gleaming fangs... 
    
    "Ray..." 
    
    Hungry.  He was so hungry.  For blood.  He needed - 
    
    Suddenly Calhoun slammed Fraser aside as Kowalski blindly, uncontrollably
    lashed out.  As with the first time he had gone over, Ray needed to feed
    and the primal urges driving him didn't care on whom or what, just so
    long as he tasted blood... 
    
    Fraser hit the ground hard, looking up in time to see Calhoun throw his
    own head back as Ray bit him in the throat.  Anyone else would have been
    killed by an attack so savage. 
    
    In speechless fascination and horror, they watched, unable to look away
    as Ray sucked hard at the wounds he'd opened in the Sabbat's neck.  Calhoun
    winced in discomfort, but said nothing, bracing himself and his prince,
    remembering a time he had done this to Ray, deliberately making it as
    painful as possible...God, what a bastard he'd been. 
    
    Not much more.  He needed to find out about Tom.  Adolph.  Why Kowalski
    suddenly turned like this.  Where they had come from.  Melfi.  He still
    needed to kill Melfi.  Dinner tonight... 
    
    "Prince Kowalski," he rasped.  "My prince, stop.  Enough."  Gently, he
    pulled Ray away.  The detective did not resist, just gazed up at him
    with frightened, injured eyes. 
    
    "What'd I do?" whispered Ray.  "I'm so sorry, Calhoun." 
    
    Understanding, Calhoun shook his head.  "You crossed over, my prince.
    Thank you for letting me help you."  He glanced over at Fraser.  "I believe
    your soul is waiting." 
    
    Like a frightened child, Ray looked back over at Fraser, realizing what
    Calhoun had stopped him from almost doing to the Mountie.  He shivered,
    almost uncontrollably. Fraser was right beside him, pulling him back
    into his gentle embrace.  "Let's go home, Ray." 
    
    Calhoun turned to Turnbull.  "We're at Warfield's.  Lord Caine wants
    the rest of the Tarot deck.  Do you have it?" 
    
    "Yes." 
    
    "Get it to him.  I'll catch up with you.  Take the car." 
    
    Ray gave him the oddest look. "You're going alone?" 
    
    "I have to. Remember, she told you not to come back." 
     
    Calhoun flashed him his cockiest grin.  Ray shook his head then rested
    against Fraser once again. 
        
    *** 
    
    "We're here..." Adolph hissed, letting go of his father's arm. 
    
    The air whistled past him as he fell, and fell fast. He'd had dreams
    like this. But someone always caught him before he fell. James... 
    
    Was this a dream? No. Usually he'd snapped out of it by now. Screaming.
    
    He yelped as the sharp husks of corn and the moonflax cut into his arms
    and legs as he fell. Where the hell was he that corn still grew in the
    barren-ness that was the world now? 
    
    He opened his eyes as the arms caught him. James? No. Cold like James,
    though. And wearing leather like James. He looked like something out
    of Sid and Nancy. He fought a snicker. 
    
    "What's this?" the blonde man asked Adolph as he landed.  He had an English
    accent. 
    
    "A problem," Adolph whispered. "And an answer." 
    
    "Whose problem and whose answer?" demanded he. 
    
    "Mine.  We'll hold him.  Don't bother him, Spike, without permission."
    
    Tom tried to struggle against the powerful grip.  For the moment, he
    was held with ease. 
    
    "He's a Slayer.  Matter of fact," added the blond, sniffing at him with
    a disgusted look on his face, "he's a lot of Slayers." 
    
    "Mine," reiterated the demon.  "Don't touch him, Anarch." 
    
    "What am I /supposed/ to do with him then?" 
    
    "Put him with the others. I'll come for him later." 
    
    From the look on Spike's face, Tom was sure he wasn't going to like this.
    
    *** 
    
    Her work was almost done here, she knew without the Watchers telling
    her.  Still, she did have a little time.  Perhaps she could actually
    try to save the primary reason she had been sent here: Tom Grissom. 
    So much information gleamed from the man.  He was a veritable mine of
    psychic and Slayer history, far more than he knew.  Not more than she
    could delve through, though... 
    
    Wyrm was here.  If not now, then soon.  Luckily, Chicago had Kowalski
    and Kowalski lived with Grissom and Grissom had the Necronomicon, making
    this whole little pocket of controlled insanity possible while the rest
    of the world crumbled to ashes. Poor Prince Kowalski... 
    
    She listened.  Had she heard...what was it? 
    
    Suddenly the door smashed open and the Sabbat was there, slamming her
    bodily into the wall behind her desk so hard she heard bones crack. 
    He smiled evilly, not caring that he'd hurt her so severely. 
    
    "You're coming with me, bitch.  And after you tell my friends what they
    want to know, you and I are going to have a little chat." 
    
    *** 
    
    He definitely did not like it. Being stabbed was one thing. Being strangled
    was another. Hell, even getting knocked up by three, count 'em three,
    demons and one vampire was /fine/. 
    
    Being strung up by your son's minions and hung crucifixion like from
    what appeared to be a cross made out of corn just wasn't fine. And it
    wasn't funny. 
    
    And it was actually rather painful. 
    
    He sighed, leaning back as best he could. There were times he was very
    glad he'd kept the connection to James open. If he could see this...
    
    Who was he kidding?  If it wasn't so serious, James would laugh his ass
    off. 
    
    *** 
    
    Calhoun listened to Kowalski and the others question Melfi and sat in
    the living room to help Aja play match up with the cards and photos.
    He picked up the Sacrifice tarot again, just to see Tom's face again,
    and noticed something. He blinked, trying to make sure his vision hadn't
    gone funny. 
    
    It hadn't. He looked to Turnbull, glaring. "What did you make these cards
    out of?" 
    
    Turnbull raised an eyebrow. "A mixture of...." He shook his head, not
    important. "Why?" 
    
    "It's changed." 
    
    "What's changed?" 
    
    "The image." 
    
    Aja looked and gasped. Instead of the stone slab, there was now a crucifix
    of golden...corn? 
    
    The three exchanged a look. Aja picked up the photograph and blinked.
    On the photo, Tom's arms were slowly becoming covered with scratches.
    Only moments before you could barely see the man at all. 
    
    "Is this bad?" Calhoun finally managed to whisper. 
    
    "I...." Aja shook his head. "I don't know." 
     
    "Seeker, was this supposed to happen?" asked Caine. 
    
    "I hadn't foreseen it." 
    
    They looked up as Warfield came towards them, taking the long way around
    to avoid having to address Fraser, whom Warfield held in only slightly
    higher esteem than Calhoun.  He nodded to Caine and said, "It appears
    the good doctor was gleaning information for the Watchers.  Interestingly
    enough, she didn't pass on anything of real value.  She has quite a library
    on the Seer." 
    
    Calhoun glared towards the living room.  Warfield knew the look and said
    nothing.  Melfi was not long for the world.  Not that Warfield cared.
    
    "We really didn't have much to go on," admitted Turnbull.  "The Watchers
    were too busy worrying about the Slayers to follow the real problem:
    Prince Kowalski." 
    
    "She knew about him," stated Warfield.  "She said that on a subconscious
    level, Tom knew /something/ was going on." 
    
    Calhoun's eyes narrowed.  "Lot of good it will do her." 
    
    *** 
    
    He could feel him.  James was cross.  Typical.  There was great worry
    there, too, and he could tell when the vampire was holding their daughter
    because there was such a sensation of protectiveness and joy.  He reveled
    in the feeling.  He let himself get lost in his lover's emotions, knowing
    he would sleep if James slept.  He was terribly hungry, but he didn't
    know whose hunger it was.  No matter.  If James hunted, he would at least
    be partially sated. 
    
    He glanced down. The vampire Adolph had called Spike was staring up at
    him. "What?" 
    
    Spike smiled, a slow grin. "Comfy?" 
    
    His grin faded when Tom spat on him. 
    
    *** 
    
    Exhausted and confused, Ray Kowalski finally gave up on Melfi and left
    her to the tender charms of the triple F tag team of Faith, Frobisher
    and Fraser.  Hopefully later on Turnbull would grill her again.  He suspected
    Calhoun was planning something nasty for the woman but he knew better
    than to ask.  All he wanted to do was rest, but with Grissom missing,
    he didn't dare stop.  So he went into the council room and plopped down
    at the table. 
    
    "Anything?" he wondered. 
    
    Calhoun tossed a card across the table.  "You tell me." 
    
    Without touching it, Ray looked at the Sacrifice. 
    
    "Wasn't it different before?" 
    
    "Yes," snapped the vampire. "Five minutes ago he wasn't hung on a cross."
    
    "Are any others different?" 
    
    "Not that I've..." Caine broke off, looking at the card of the Prince.
    Ray, child of his heart. 
    
    It showed him as a vampire now. 
    
    "I think I need to do a reading." 
    
    Ray looked questioningly up at the others, his hand poised over the card
    before him. 
    
    "Can I?" 
    
    "Do it," said Calhoun. 
    
    His hand slammed down on the card, and he winced. A burning in his stomach.
    Agonizing. Glowing. So much pain he thought he would surely die. His
    arms hurt so much, his back ached and he was so tired.  
    
    Bones rattling?  No.  Leaves. Stem.  He was running through...corn? 
    Endless rows of corn, barely able to see by the faint light of a sickly
    pale moon.  Running, running, for his life, for hers... 
    
    /What is he doing here?  He's not a Slayer!  He's...undead!/ 
    
    A room full of women.  Most were young.  Some were pretty.  Only one
    was familiar: a lacey dress to the floor, black hair piled atop her head
    and clear gray eyes. 
    
    He had seen her die, once, at the hands and fangs of her husband, James
    Calhoun.  This was Marianne. 
    
    She cupped his cheek and chin, whispering, /We have given her a gift,
    Prince.  See that she lives to use it./ 
    
    "Who?" Ray wondered, his voice sounding so far away. 
    
    /My husband's daughter./  She smiled. 
    
    "Sophia...?" the shake of her head worried him. A rustling noise. He
    followed her gaze out the window. 
    
    Tom. His corn crucifix. An entire row of them. They were all...children.
    Cassie's age. Oh my God. 
    
    /Leave him....it's his destiny./ 
    
    "His destiny to die?" 
    
    /If that's what occurs.../ 
    
    "No..." 
    
    He felt hands go around him as he fell.  His retainer.  "Ray? Prince
    Kowalski, what is it? What'd you see?" 
    
    "I don't...I don't know..." He stared at the card again. It had changed.
    Name include. "The Sacrifice Among The Rows." 
    
    *** 
    
    Adolph sniffed his father, smiling and hissing. "You're in pain?" 
    
    "No." 
    
    "You're lying. Are you hungry?" 
    
    "I'm fine." 
    
    Adolph's fingers went to his father's stomach. "I could kill your life,
    and you wouldn't be able to stop me." He whispered. Tom shivered. "Why
    do you love me?" 
    
    "You're my..." 
    
    "Human sentiments. We're demons, daddy. We don't do human." 
    
    "I'm half human, Adolph.  There's human in you, too.  Besides, demons
    do have emotions and very close families." 
    
    "I wouldn't know." 
    
    "I could show you.  Did you know you have another sister?" 
    
    The demon snorted, interested despite himself.  "Get raped again?" 
    
    "No," Tom said gently, his tone softening at the memory of that glorious
    night.  "No.  It was wonderful.  Such a feeling of love." 
    
    "Why can't you leave me alone about love?" hissed Adolph. 
    
    "I love you.  You're my son.  I can't help or stop the feeling." 
    
    "Try." 
    
    "No.  Don't forget, Adolph, /you/ brought me here." 
    
    "You'll make a nice snack for Spike's army." 
    
    "You've kept me alive," pressed the psychic. 
    
    The demon turned away.  "For now. For fun." 
    
    "Adolph!" He shouted as his son flew away. "Adolph, you can't keep me
    here...." He was hungry. So incredibly hungry. He could feel it all over.
    
    "Watch me." 
    
    *** 
    
    "Cal?" Ray looked up, still trying to get his bearings. "You wanna eat
    something before Tom starves to death?" He wasn't sure he liked the looks
    on their faces when he said that. 
    
    Calhoun nodded, looking strangely upbeat at the suggestion.  He left
    the room, leaving them to exchange knowing and confused looks, respectively.
    
    "Was it something I said?" wondered Ray. 
    
    *** 
    
    Slamming open the door to where Melfi sat alone, Calhoun smiled down
    at her.  "Hello, Doctor." 
    
    "What do you want?" 
    
    "You've got five minutes.  If you can get away from me, you'll live."
    
    "What?" she breathed, certain she'd misunderstood him. 
    
    "Clock's ticking, bitch.  Better run." 
    
    She ran.  He waited in darkness, counting the moments.  As he left, he
    passed Fraser and Frobisher. 
    
    "Melfi's gone," he stated calmly. 
    
    Both Slayers were surprised, then Frobisher shrugged.  "She couldn't
    have told us more, anyway.  I don't think she understood what she was
    getting in to." 
    
    Fraser puzzled at Calhoun's smile. 
    
    "Excuse me, gentlemen, but it's dinner time." 
    
    Frobisher sparked at that idea.  "Hmm.  What's for dinner?" 
    
    "A negative," said Calhoun, setting off. 
    
    "Strange boy."
    
    "Hmm."
        
    *** 
    
    The hunger abated somewhat. He could feel James' glee about something.
    Weird. He stared down at the ground, wondering exactly how he was to
    get loose. 
    
    Everything felt...displaced. Tingly. He'd felt like this before, but
    then again he hadn't. It felt...good. 
    
    *** 
    
    James felt tingly, all the way to his toes. He cracked his neck as he
    returned to Warfield's, annoying the posted guards as he went boldly
    into the bar. He entered the back rooms and immediately Ma came along
    and handed him his daughter.  He gave the old Italian lady a kiss on
    the cheek and promised to return Sophia to her cradle when she was asleep.
    Carrying Sophia, he joined Caine and Warfield in the council room, hovering
    over the boy's shoulder as he did his reading. "Anything yet?"  
    
    "Raymond and Fire," answered Caine.  "They keep appearing together with
    the Plain of Armageddon and the Land."  He rubbed his aching head, worn
    out. 
    
    "Will he be consumed by fire?  Start a fire?  Get shot?" wondered Calhoun.
    
    Warfield sighed.  "We asked ourselves that all night.  How is Melfi?"
    
    "She was delicious." 
    
    Caine gave him an exasperated look.  Warfield smirked. 
    
    "We think.../I/ think...Ray may become the fire, James." 
    
    "Become?" exclaimed Calhoun, waking Sophia.  "We're undead!  We're like
    tinder!  Woosh!  Highly flammable." 
    
    Warfield cleared his throat smugly.  "We're also not supposed to reproduce
    sexually." 
    
    Calhoun shut his mouth.  Score one for the Giovanni.  "Good point." 
    
    Caine gazed long and hard at the cards in his hand.  Finally he looked
    to the Giovanni.  "Prince Warfield, I have need of privacy for a few
    hours." 
    
    "Of course, my Lord," said Warfield, glaring hard at Calhoun to get lost.
    
    *** 
    
    Fraser lay on the four-poster bed beside Ray, doing nothing but watch
    his lover sleep in his arms as he slowly stroked the green, spiky-soft
    hair.  Undead.  His Ray was undead again.  For good, perhaps. 
    
    At least they knew what to expect.  Why had this happened?  Wyrm had
    maintained him as a hybrid for his own purposes.  Was Ray's ability to
    channel Wyrm through the Necronomicon no longer a necessity? Perhaps
    a test would be in order once they'd all gotten much deserved rest. 
    
    Ray had told him about the incident of burning the Tarot card.  He hadn't
    displayed any other pyrotechnical tendencies, but he /was/ strangely
    warm for an undead.  He knew from Tom and Calhoun himself that at best,
    his body was like that of anything cold blooded, reflecting the surrounding
    temperature.  Not so Ray.  He felt positively feverish. 
    
    Ray had also told him of his dream of the Slayer Arcanum. He didn't agree
    with Ray's decision not to tell Jamey. Perhaps in the morning. 
    
    Wrapping himself around Ray a bit tighter, Fraser tried to review what
    he knew about the events of the past few days.  The terrarium was bursting
    around them and there didn't seem to be anything they could do but watch
    it happen. 
    
    *** 
    
    Tom opened his eyes to the sound of something cracking. He looked to
    the side. Spike was climbing up to his level. "Who are you to him?" Spike
    demanded. 
    
    "Who?" 
    
    Spike grinned, showing all his fangs. "Cute. You know who, Slayer." 
    
    "Adolph...he's my son." 
    
    Spike nodded. "Well. Then it would probably annoy him if I did this."
    He produced a pocket knife. Tom closed his eyes, waiting. 
    
    He felt the branches holding him on the cross snap, and Spike caught
    him. 
    
    Tom sagged against the hold, swaying as he was set on his feet. He stared
    at Spike, surprised. "What..." 
    
    "I'd hurry. He's on his way."  
    
    "Which way is Chicago?" 
    
    "North east." 
        
    *** 
    
    Aja flipped the card down. "The Seer. Death. The Sacrifice in the Rows...and
    the Light." He leaned back. "I don't understand this. Not at all." 
    
    Frobisher nodded, sympathetically. "I'll admit. It's got me worried."
    
    "None of the prophesies are fitting.." 
    
    "Maybe they are," Turnbull nodded, sure of it. "Just not the way we've
    interpreted them." 
    
    "How do you mean?" 
    
    "We've always interpreted Ray as being the dark haired seer. But the
    cards say that it's not him. Maybe the same is true of other prophesies."
    
    Caine sighed, regretting that this three-year old body was not up to
    the demands he was putting on it.  He rubbed his eyes in a gesture so
    childish that Turnbull smiled fondly. 
    
    "Shall we rest for a while?  It is late, Lord Caine." 
    
    "Yes." 
    
    "I'm expected at the consulate tomorrow," stated Turnbull.  Apparently
    the Seeker that had replaced him had come down with a rather bad cold.
    He had been asked to come in. "Mina and I will be here in the evening."
    
    "See if she can't bring Raymond some blood, please," said Caine.  "He
    won't hunt and I don't want him to starve." 
    
    *** 
    
    He ran, wind whipping at him, the dried corn leaves sharp and catching
    as they slapped at his face and hands.  The air was cold and smelled
    of soil and death.  How many people had he just left behind to die? 
    What would Adolph do?  Hunt him down?  Kill him?  God, would James ever
    know? 
    
    He wasn't as hungry anymore.  James must have fed.  Perhaps the vampire's
    energy could keep him going.  The Sabbat seemed tireless. 
    
    He stumbled, coming upon a fence.  It was broken and twisted as if something
    had been driven through it.  After a brief search he found a broken piece
    of wood that would do quite nicely as a stake.  He knew there was more
    than Adolph out here.  Then he ran again. 
    
    *** 
    
    "Where is he?  Spike, where did the Slayer go?" 
    
    "Hmm?  Oh, the skinny one?  Did he get away?" 
    
    Adolph hissed in fury.  "You know he did!  You released him!" 
    
    "Did I?" 
    
    The demon hesitated, uncertain.  Then with a curse he took to flight,
    leaving Spike to smile smugly. 
    
    *** 
    
    Ray woke at some ungodly hour of the morning, hungry but not willing
    to do anything about it just yet.  Fraser was blissfully asleep beside
    him, beautiful even as he dreamt.  Ray kissed him on the hair before
    silently sliding out of the bed they shared.  Dief, curled up on the
    couch, whined, but he quieted down when Ray stroked his head and covered
    him with a blanket again. 
    
    The suite was quiet.  Warfield had complained that he was not running
    a hotel, but Ray could tell the vampire prince was enjoying having something
    to bitch about and it was clear he loved bickering with Ma.  Frannie
    had returned to her and Welsh's house not far from the consulate and
    Ray already missed her voice echoing down the halls.  He didn't want
    to see the new and improved Faith.  He'd met her the day after they had
    returned and he'd taken an instant dislike to the woman despite his best
    efforts.  
    
    Xander...Xander was already in the habit of accosting the bartenders
    but he was learning to mix a mean daquori.  Zuko was out.  Seemed like
    the whole Clan of the Rose was on the prowl tonight.  Except Ray. 
    
    He hesitated when he saw there was a fire burning in the council room.
    Looking in, he saw Calhoun in one of the wingback chairs watching his
    daughter sleep in his arms. 
    
    "You okay?" asked Ray quietly. 
    
    Calhoun glanced up, his eyes dancing with a mischievous, cold fire. 
    "Ever think the day would dawn that you'd care?" he responded.  He was
    glad to see Ray smile. 
    
    "No," admitted the detective.  "But I'm happy it did." 
    
    "So am I," he said softly, watching Sophia.  "I still can't believe she's
    real." 
    
    "Tom was running when I saw him.  Running through corn." 
    
    Calhoun frowned, closing his eyes and resting his head back to concentrate.
    "That's now." 
    
    "Now?" 
    
    "He's running." 
    
    "You can tell?" 
    
    "We have a...connection.  Tom doesn't know I know.  He established a
    link to me pretty soon after the Cruciamentum.  It's very primal.  Just
    emotional, really.  He's frightened right now.  He's drawing on me for
    calm." 
    
    "Can you tell where he is?" wondered Ray. 
    
    "If I could do you think I'd be sitting here?" 
    
    Ray sat down, thinking.  "If I can..." 
    
    "Can what?" 
    
    "Find him.  If I can find him...can we get him back?" 
    
    "Through a crack in your terrarium?" 
    
    "Yeah.  Fraser said Turnbull made a wormhole to /me/ using the blood
    of a dho...bho...worm.  Thingy.  If we go out, can we get back?" 
    
     "If you can locate Tom, I'll find that out." 
    
    "Get me his card.  Maybe I can see something if I can control the flash."
    
    "Try this."  The vampire returned with three cards: Sacrifice in the
    Corn Rows, the Star (a Chicago PD badge, of all things) and the Land.
    "If you can, try to see the landscape.  Anything that can help.  Road
    signs, houses, anything." 
    
    "Fraser's gonna kill me." 
    
    "He can try." 
    
    "When I get back, I want to try this with Fraser's card." 
    
    "We should go through the whole damned deck." 
    
    "You're mighty generous with my time, Cal." 
    
    "Shut up and hold the cards." 
    
    ***  
    
    The flight had been long, Tom remembered that. He barely remembered the
    actual journey, the discomfort of being held in such a position for so
    long had caused him a lot of pain. He'd tried very hard to keep his connection
    to James minimal during that time. No need to hurt him too. 
    
    He stood at the edge of the town, staring at the population sign. The
    numbers were continually slashed out until it finally read 45. He didn't
    know if that included undead. He gripped the stake tighter and moved
    in. Maybe if he could find a phone, he could call James. 
    
    *** 
    
    Ray closed his eyes as he took the cards and forcibly attempted to control
    the flash. A town. A small town. Not much here, but from the looks of
    it the place was torn up long before Armageddon. 
    
    "Kowalski?" Calhoun ignored Xander's curious entrance. "Ray, what do
    you see?" 
    
    "Um...Not sure..." Ray wrinkled his nose. "Places stinks. Like blood.
    And rotting flesh." He held the cards tighter. "A bar. Vampire bar. The....Gold?"
    
    "The Bronze?" Xander whispered quietly.  Ray nodded. 
    
    Calhoun whirled on the teenager.  "You've heard of the place?" 
    
    "It's in Sunnydale..." 
    
    *** 
    
    Tom stood just outside the Bronze, trying the payphone. He could get
    a dial tone, but every time he tried dialing James' cell phone, he got
    a clicking. He tapped his foot impatiently, then tried Ray's. 
    
    He looked up nervously and he felt a curdling in his stomach. This place,
    he could feel, was /bad/. Very bad.  A Slayer had died here, her neck
    broken by the one they called The Master. He trembled, and nearly dropped
    the phone. 
    
    *** 
    
    Xander jumped as Ray's cell phone rang. They all did.  Ray, snapped out
    of his flash, and grabbed it quickly. He /knew/ who was on the other
    line. "Tom?" 
    
    James raised an eyebrow. What...? 
    
    "Tom, I can't hear you..." 
    
    "Ray....Sunn...Adol....going to find....hurry..." Tom's voice was coming
    through filled with static. 
    
    "Tom?" 
    
    Dead silence, then a dial tone. What had Tom been trying to say?  Sunnydale?
    And Adolph? 
    
    Hell. 
    
    *** 
    
    He kicked open the door of the house with shocking ease. He hadn't expected
    to be able to do that again. He knew this house. Intimately. This had
    been a Slayer's house. It was...familiar. 
    
    He heard a giggle from the kitche, and went to investigate. A woman stood
    in front of the table, lighting candles. In chairs sat china dolls, half
    filled cups of blood in front of them. 
    
    She looked up at him and smiled. Her fangs glimmered in the light of
    the candles and he knew he should be afraid. She walked towards him,
    her hand touching his face. "You have her eyes..." the woman whispered,
    her accent light and airy. A sort of sing song quality lit her voice.
    "No. You have her in your eyes..." 
    
    He shivered and backed away, suddenly very glad for that stake. "Who
    are you?" 
    
    "I'm a princess." 
    
    "You're a vampire." 
    
    "Hmm..." She giggled. "You've found me out." 
    
    "Your name?" 
    
    "Drusilla. I was eating villagers..." She breathed, as if to invite him
    to join her. 
    
    He blinked. What the.... "Oh?" He tilted his head. 
    
    "What were you doing when the world ended?" She giggled again. "Want
    to play?" 
    
    "Play?" 
    
    "With my dolls...no one comes to play anymore. That cruel little boy
    took away all the children." Her eyes glinted. "I like children. But
    Spike says we mustn't quarrel. The boy can tear our insides out..." 
    
    He wondered if he looked as sick as he felt. 
    
    *** 
    
    Aja slept quietly. His dreams were filled with visions of prophesies.
    He knew this should frighten him but it didn't.  He had been on this
    planet countless centuries and had seen and experienced good and evil
    in infinite forms.  Very little frightened him now. 
    
    Wyrm frightened him. 
    
    So did the possibility of losing his 'father'. 
    
    But nothing compared to the growing fear he felt for his son.  For Ray.
    His fourteenth child.  His prince. 
    
    In his sleep, the ancient envisioned the detective.  He had tried so
    hard to protect Ray these past three years.  The Giovanni and the Tremere
    had been hard-pressed to watch his back without interfering with his
    work.  Still, they had kept him from whatever harm they could. 
    
    And now that Wyrm had abandoned Ray, Caine had done what /he/ could.
    
    He had stirred within his blood a power to protect him, because somehow
    Caine sensed that all his efforts to protect his prince would ultimately
    meet with failure and Ray would have no one but himself to call upon.
    
    /...some day, yes.../ 
    
    Lilith? 
    
    /Soon.  I promise./ 
    
    Ray! 
    
    Caine jerked awake, his heart racing.  Ray!  He needed to get to Ray
    /now/ and assure himself he was well.  Lilith.  He had known she would
    return.  Wyrm's mistress.  Too easy.  Wyrm had been too willing to let
    her die. 
    
    He ran through the halls to the room Ray and his soul shared.  Dief whined
    that his other human had left then joined the vampire king in his search.
    
    They were in the council room, Ray, Calhoun, and the newcomer, Xander,
    pouring over maps and atlases.  Ray smiled in greeting as Dief hurried
    over and hugged him, growling happily. 
    
    "We think we found Tom, Aja." 
    
    "May I speak with you, my son?" begged Caine. 
    
    Xander frowned, clearly unaware of the family dynamics that prevailed
    in this household. 
    
    "Yeah.  Come on, we'll put your sister to bed." 
    
    He fetched Sophia from the nest Calhoun had made from a blanket and carried
    her towards the nursery.  When she was safely settled and warmly covered,
    Ray sat down in the rocking chair and lifted Caine to his lap, holding
    him in a warm embrace. 
    
    "What's up, Aja?" 
    
    "I had a dream." 
    
    "A nightmare?" 
    
    "It's all the same to me.  It was of Lilith." 
    
    He felt Ray stiffen. 
    
    "She is returning." 
    
    "Great," was the sarcastic reply. 
    
    "Raymond?" 
    
    "Yeah?" 
    
    "I have done something that will anger you." 
    
    "Try me, daddy-o." 
    
    Aja bit his lip, something he'd never dare do as a vampire. 
    
    "I...have done something to you." 
    
    "Aja, did you make me undead again?" 
    
    He winced at the controlled tone.  "No, my son.  I would never. I know
    how much you despised the notion.  No.  I have endeavored to change you
    /as/ a vampire." 
    
    Ray took a moment to absorb that.  "Like a daywalker or something cool?"
    
    "Cool?  Quite the opposite.  If all goes well, you will be a fire vampire,
    the Bane of the Wyrm and that which he fears most." 
    
    Ray blinked, wondering if it was too late to apply for a transfer. 
    
    *** 
    
    Xander sighed, "If we drive or walk it'll take too long." 
    
    Calhoun gave him the oddest glare. "No kidding?" 
    
    "Yeah. We need to use the hellmouth." 
    
    "The hell...the what??" Calhoun stared at the boy, not exactly sure what
    the kid was talking about. 
    
    "Turnbull knows how to access it. Up for a stroll through hell?"  
    
    Calhoun shrugged.  "What the hell." 
        
    *** 
    
    Faith sat on the steps outside the back entrance of Warfield's headquarters,
    smoking. She'd taken to it shortly after her resurrection, and hadn't
    stopped. She felt eyes on her. "Gonna lecture me, Constable?" 
    
    Fraser shook his head, coming to sit beside her. "No." He stared at her
    for a long while, his Stetson in his hands. "What is it you want, Faith?"
    
    "Excuse me?" 
    
    "What is it you want from us? From Tom?" 
     
    "You guys don't seem able to separate me from the Faith you met before.
    I just want to be treated normally." 
    
    "It's rather difficult to dismiss the memories of what happened with
    the other version of yourself." 
    
    "You think I could still go that way, Constable?" 
    
    "Do you?" 
    
    She dropped the cigarette and ground it out with her foot.  "I asked
    first.  And to answer your question, I think I'd have to be pushed that
    way." 
    
    That sounded mildly threatening.  Fraser regarded her evenly.  There
    was no need to open is mouth because she talked on, taking her anger
    and frustration out on him. 
    
    "Your little vampy boy-toy got the willies when he met me.  I haven't
    seen him since.  And I know that Sabbat would be happy to see me dead
    or worse.  Even Mrs. Vecchio won't let me near the kids and that werewolf
    thing running around..." 
    
    "Listen to yourself, Faith.  You're full of bitterness.  Maybe /that/
    is what people react to." 
    
    "Bitter.  Yeah, I'm bitter.  You would be too, in my case." 
    
    "That I doubt.  Few people are given such a chance.  You're squandering
    yours."  He rose and returned his hat to his head.  "Good day." 
    
    "Tom forgave and forgot." 
    
    He paused. "Did he?" he stated, bluntly, before going back inside. 
    
    *** 
    
    Ray was waiting for him inside Warfield's, having turned off the lights
    in the hall so he could see.  "Marco will take ya to work," the detective
    informed him.  "We gotta talk before you go." 
    
    Fraser paused to run the back of his hand down Ray's warm cheek, then
    cup his jaw as he drew him close for a kiss.  The feverish warmth was
    strangely erotic to Fraser, it was such a novelty.  Ray's eyes had not
    returned to their normal blue as they had when he had gone over three
    years ago, and his black eyes and paper-white skin gave him an unearthly
    appearance. 
    
    "Watch the fangs," muttered Ray when he felt the Mountie's tongue on
    his lips. 
    
    "Understood," murmured Fraser, suddenly very excited at the mental image
    of what Ray would do if he did happen to nick his tongue on those razor-sharp
    fangs.  He tried to control the thought.  He could find that out later,
    behind closed doors.  Right now... 
    
    "What about?" he asked abruptly, pulling back from the kiss before he
    lost all control. 
    
    Ray blinked, dazed, deep in impure thoughts involving a Mountie and lace-up
    boots and fun places to nibble on said Mountie's body. 
    
    "Duh-wha?" 
    
    "What did you want to talk about?" 
    
    "Have to talk.  Trust me, Fraser, I don' wanna /talk/..." 
    
    Fraser smiled.  "What is it?" 
    
    "One, last night I found where Tom is.  Well, this morning." 
    
    "That's where you were."  Fraser tightened his hold on the American,
    forever possessive of his soul.  "How?" 
    
    "The cards.  Then he called." He shrugged. "I guess my phone was near
    enough to a crack." 
    
    "Where is he?" 
    
    "California. Sunnydale, to be exact." 
    
    Fraser blinked.  "How will we get him back?" 
    
    "Same way Turnbull got ya back here." 
    
    Fraser blanched, remembering the worms. 
    
    "Is there a two?" 
    
    "Yeah.  I'm a fire vampire." 
    
    "What on earth is a fire vampire, Ray?" 
    
    "I was hopin' you'd be able ta tell me." 
    
    There was a note of fear in that beloved voice.  Fraser smoothed the
    dark green hair.  He knew Ray feared what he might do - what he had almost
    done on more than one occasion - now that he was a vampire.  Always that
    fear was for Fraser and it broke the Slayer's heart to know his lover,
    his gentle, tender Ray, had to carry that fear.  God, he loved this man
    so much it frightened him.  Loved him so much he could not even consider
    life without him by his side.  Living, undead - so long as Ray Kowalski
    was there, he didn't care what he was or had been or would become. 
    
    He saw an echo of his thoughts reflected back at him in Ray's expression.
    Whatever had he done so wondrous to deserve to be so completely loved?
    So accepted?  So understood? 
    
    "I'll find out," he promised.  He traced his fingers across Ray's cheek,
    down to his lips.  "Don't worry," he whispered. 
    
    "Love you," breathed Ray. 
    
    "And I, you.  My love.  My soul." 
    
    "Don't ever leave me." 
    
    "Shalln't." 
    
    Ray suddenly grinned.  "I love it when you talk Canadian." 
    
    ***
    
    He hated tea parties. He hated them when Cassie had had them at age five
    and he hated them now. Tied to a chair, forced to endure the tea party
    of the damned. He blew out a despondent sigh. 
    
    She looked at him, vaguely annoyed at the sound. "Miss Edith," she stage
    whispered to one of her dolls, "I think that The Slayer isn't having
    any fun." 
    
    He stared at her, unamused.
    
    Until he saw her fangs. 
    
    He really wished she hadn't taken his stake. Especially when she bit
    him and bit hard. He gasped, more from shock than from pain. His head
    tilted back involuntarily and his teeth ground together from the pain.
    
    "Hmm...nice Slayer." She shoved him backward, and he could feel the chair
    back give. He fell to the floor in a wickedly uncomfortable position.
    He grunted, crying out as she dug back in. 
    
    He was beginning to black out when she pulled away. 
    
    *** 
    
    The spell to open a gateway into a Hellmouth was slightly different and
    since it was permanently established, did not require dead demons to
    make it come true. Calhoun sat in the sitting room, watching Turnbull
    work. Somehow, Faith had managed to convince him to let her go with them.
    
    He was sure he'd end up killing her. 
     
    He sat poised, balancing his rifle on his knees, waiting.  He had already
    said good-bye to Sophia, steeling himself against the parting so Tom
    would not be affected.  Cassie would care for her.  Cassie and Ma and
    if it was safe they would go and see Stella, maybe stay with the Vecchio's
    for the night.  He glanced at the two teenagers that would accompany
    him.  Xander was nervous but determined, probably relieved to be getting
    out and Calhoun found himself grateful to the skinny young man.  Kowalski
    must have been like that at that age, he mused.  Faith was calm. Too
    calm. 
    
    He wouldn't let her be armed.
    
    He carried the stakes.
    
    And he ignored her sneer as he donned leather gloves and loaded silver
    bullets into the rifle. She hated him, he could tell. For what he had
    with Tom or what he wasn't sure. 
    
    He felt no pity for her.
    
    "I'm ready," announced Turnbull.
    
    "Good."  He'd done this kind of thing a million times.  Go into enemy
    territory, get our man, get out.  Simple.  Except for Poland.  Nothing
    about Poland had been simple. 
    
    Suddenly he twitched.  He frowned as a rush of confusion and fear hit
    him. Tom was being attacked.  Adolph?  No.  Not the demon. Something
    worse. Something that scared the hell out of Tom. 
    
    Pain exploded in his throat, the same pain as when Prince Kowalski had
    fed off of him earlier in the week.  A vampire. 
    
    /Fight!/ his mind screamed, but he knew Tom was helpless. Bound.  Weakened.
    /Fight!/ 
    
    He closed his eyes, willing Tom to let him see. The images came slowly.
    Blurred. 
    
    A female.  Vampire.  Insane.  Dolls?  Tea?  Blood?
    
    Lilith?
    
    No. Not Lilith. Much worse. Much more dangerous, because this one didn't
    want the world. She wanted everything else. 
    
    He was panting.  Odd for a vampire.  "Faster!" he ordered Turnbull. 
    "He's being attacked!  A vampire is feeding off of him." 
    
    Turnbull nodded and picked up the pace.  Carrying a book of spells, he
    turned to the cold fire place and began to chant in an ancient tongue.
    
    Calhoun barely heard.  His throat ached and he was afraid.  He held his
    head with both hands, gritting his teeth as he tried to keep in control.
    
    Suddenly Prince Kowalski and his Slayer were there.  Kowalski steadied
    Calhoun with his hands, kneeling before the vampire. 
    
    "Cal?  Cal?  Cassie told us what's up.  You gonna be okay doing this?"
    
    He nodded, trying to get his thoughts in order.
    
    "Be careful.  Would it help if I made it an order?"
    
    Pain was building.  It wasn't amaranth.  Not yet.  He nodded again, seeing
    the wisdom in the suggestion.  God, he had been so cruel to the man that
    was comforting him now.  Why had Kowalski forgiven him so easily?  How?
    
    The prince's voice became a hard whisper.  "Alright, then, Sabbat, I'm
    ordering you not to return without Tom Grissom.  You get him out of there,
    then you get your butts back here." 
    
    Suddenly the pain was gone, vanished in mere seconds.  Calhoun gasped
    at the abruptness of it and Kowalski yanked him forward into a strong
    embrace.  He felt Fraser's hand on his shoulder. 
    
    "He passed out," gasped Calhoun.
    
    "She tries anything, you do what you have to," whispered Kowalski into
    his ear.  "Got it?" 
    
    He nodded gratefully.  Perhaps he would have his revenge yet.
    
    Turnbull's voice interrupted.  "Ready!  Remember, one hour!"
    
    "Be careful," Fraser said to them all.
    
    Calhoun looked to the fireplace.  There was a hole of swirling colors
    and waves of heat opened there.  A wormhole.  They could have used these
    during D-Day. 
    
    "Coming?" demanded Faith.
    
    Calhoun and Kowalski exchanged a long look then he moved to the fireplace.
    "See you before lunch.  Move it," he ordered the teenagers, and stepped
    into the hole. 
    
    ***
    
    He woke up feeling sick to his stomach. He was lying on his side, his
    hands unbound from the chair. Soft fingers and sharp fingernails traced
    the lines of his face, and he could barely open his eyes. 
    
    "You're like me, Slayer..." the sing song voice of the vampire whispered
    in his ear. "In your head." 
    
    "No." He shook his head. It hurt. Everything ached. "Never be like you..."
    
    She chuckled, and it sounded vaguely...musical. "Of course you are, deary.
    Yu're light and unhappy and you get thoughts in your head." She smiled,
    her lips brushing against his ear. He cringed. "Unhappy thoughts. Sad
    thoughts. Mad thoughts. Bad thoughts." 
    
    "No." He shook his head.
    
    "I can see your thoughts. You used to wish you would die. Sometimes you
    still do..." She licked at the wounds on his neck and he squirmed. "I
    had dreams before I died. Visions. People dying. Do you see things?"
    
    His silence was enough for her. She smiled again.
    
    "It's all right. I'm not going to hurt you today, Slayer. I'll wait..."
    
    "Wait?"
    
    "Until your life comes..."
    
    /My life?/ he thought wearily. /James?/
    
    "No, silly," she giggled at his thoughts and brushed his hair back. "Your
    little girl...the unborn one. The Chosen Fetus..." She giggled again
    and rocked backward. 
    
    He looked at her, frightened out of his mind.
    
    ***
    
    "I'm going to be late," Turnbull stated bluntly and looked at Fraser.
    
    "You gave them an hour. There's only 45 minutes left."
    
    He crossed his arms. "She'll have me on sentry duty forever."
    
    "Ice Queen," muttered Ray.
    
    "You and me both, Turnbull," said the Constable, not about to let his
    subordinate go to the guillotine alone.  He drew a deep breath.  "I'll
    call. Though, I really doubt she could do that. You're not exactly stationed
    there..." 
    
    "Nice knowin' ya," whispered Kowalski as the Mountie went for the phone.
    "In the Biblical sense, that is," he added with a mischievous grin that
    made Fraser blush and smooth his eyebrow. 
    
    ***
    
    Xander exited the library and saw it first. He recoiled at the memory,
    and Faith just smirked. Calhoun's mouth dropped open as he stared at
    the...fairly large, very dead serpent lying in the hallway. 
    
    "The Mayor," Xander stated, nodding and moved on.
    
    "Oh..." He shrugged. Small town politics. This was California, after
    all.  "Move it.  We haven't got much time." 
    
    "Is Tom conscious yet?" asked Faith.
    
    "Yeah.  And that vampire bitch is close."
    
    Faith gave him a cool look.  "Which one?"
    
    He glared.  Wrong answer.
    
    ***
    
    He felt her hand on his stomach, rubbing it gently.  "Don't worry, darling.
    Daddy's coming." 
    
    "James," breathed Tom.  He felt sick.  Weak.  When was the last time
    he'd eaten?  His hands and legs were numb. 
    
    "Is that his name?  He's on his way.  He's already killed a few of Spike's
    babies.  Poor babies.  And you," Drusilla addressed Tom's belly.  "Dad-dy
    is a vam-pire!  Poor baby." 
    
    Could this be true?  /Was/ he pregnant again?  How?  With James' child,
    no less.  How? The doctors had said he'd never carry a child again. 
    How? 
    
    "Oh!  Almost here!  Oh, he's mad!  I've got to go!  Don't worry, darling.
    I'll be alright."  With one last brush against his stomach, she rose.
    
    Then she was gone. 
    
    *** 
    
    The only resistance they met on the way to the Bronze was a group of
    Anarchs that provided Calhoun with an opportunity to prove him marksmanship.
    Five vampires fell to as many silver bullets.  Xander yelped with every
    bullet while Faith just watched.  Calhoun knew that if Xander wasn't
    there he would have 'missed.'  He still might. 
    
    The place reeked of the undead.  He'd rarely dealt with the Anarch. 
    They were a relatively new clan, not like the Gangrel and Sabbat, and
    he had no patience for them. 
    
    There were so many conflicting scents there, he missed Drusilla. 
    
    She was watching from the upper story of a house overlooking the street
    leading to the Bronze.  Her eyes grew large, then narrowed at the sight
    of the handsome, rangy elder that was killing yet another of Spike's
    foolish childer. 
    
    "Delicious," she whispered to herself.  She sniffed the air.  He'd brought
    another Slayer.  How thoughtful. It wouldn't be too difficult to lure
    the girl away. 
    
    *** 
    
    Tom lay curled on the floor of the house,  feeling nauseas beyond words.
    "James..." He felt the darkness take him under and felt light fingers
    touch his face. "Thomas...?" 
    
    "Marianne...what's wrong with me..." 
    
    "Nothing...everything's finally going right." She brushed his hair back.
    "You must rest. The next few months will be dangerous for you..." 
    
    "How..." 
    
    "Shh...Rest." He felt her lips near his ears. "Beware of the girl...she's
    not what she seems." 
    
    *** 
    
    Caine looked at the clock above the mantel. "Twenty-six minutes..." He
    was doing yet another reading. The cards were mixing up.  Calhoun kept
    turning up, the pencil drawing from Korea now, and with him the card
    for the Land.  Tom's picture had changed, too, to Medieval-style painting
    like a Madonna enthroned with a dark-haired girl child on his lap.  He
    was holding a tiny toy figure of a Mountie out to her and she was smiling.
    
    She was not Sophia. Any fool could see that. Her eyes were dove gray,
    not blue.  Who was she? 
    
    There was power in her eyes, and in his father's as well. She was strong,
    and yet so young. She was not afraid, and had never been.  It frightened
    him. He'd better have Renfield check the prophesies. 
    
    The Light again. An image was forming, slowly, like a Polaroid. A figure.
    
    He tried to resist, but he had to look. 
    
    Ray's card had changed, too.  The background was pitch black and his
    body glowed with unearthly fire. 
    
    He looked as if he was screaming. 
    
    He flipped down another card. The Renewal. Faith. The Queen. Lilith.
    The symbols were the same. The backgrounds. Their poses. Their smiles.
    
    No. 
    
    Faith...Faith was Lilith? 
    
    This couldn't be. No. She was /dead.../ 
    
    No. 
    
    *** 
    
    "Tom?  Tom!  Wake up!" 
    
    "I told you to watch the door!" 
    
    "Oh, so you get all the glory, Sabbat?  Stuff it." 
    
    Calhoun considered for all of a second, then leaned over and bodily lifted
    Faith up off the ground by the back of her jeans and deposited her roughly
    to the rear. 
    
    "Watch. The. Door." 
     
    She glared at him, tightlipped and eyes glaring.  He ignored her. 
    
    He drew his knife, cutting Tom free. The chair under him was broken,
    and he was shocked Tom hadn't hurt himself on it.   He wished the psychic
    could walk but carrying him was no problem.  Tom had a strong pulse but
    he was pale and wasted and looked as if he'd spent the better part of
    a week accumulating new abuses and traumas.  No bones were broken and
    save for the puncture marks in his neck, all the cuts and scrapes were
    a few days old.  
    He'd kill Adolph. And the vampire. And anyone else who had hurt Tom.
    Especially Faith.  
    With the precision of several lifetimes of training, he reloaded the
    rifle and slung it over his shoulder before he gently lifted the psychic
    in his arms. 
            
    "Xander!  We clear?" he called, knowing getting back would be hellish
    now that he'd offed half a dozen of the Anarchs.  What a stupid name.
    Only in California. 
    
    "S'far as I can tell, it being all pitch black and all," called the boy.
    
    "They're going to be out in force.  Stick close.  How much time we got?"
    
    "Twenty-three minutes." 
    
    "Let's move." 
    
    Faith frowned.  "What about me?" 
    
    Calhoun just gave her a look.  "Come on." 
    
    *** 
    
    Faith was quite convinced they were both ignoring her when she suddenly
    felt a clawed hand grab her. They were passing by the Bronze and she
    was just /yanked/ right in. 
    
    They were almost at the library when Xander finally noticed. Tom was
    starting to come around, struggling a bit in James' grip. "Hey..." He
    looked around at his former home town. "Hey." 
    
    "What?" Calhoun sounded visibly annoyed. 
    
    "She's gone..." 
                
    "And?" 
    
    Xander frowned. He understood his animosity towards Faith, but didn't
    like it. He liked Faith. A lot. They had a...connection. "I'm gonna go
    find her..." 
    
    He started to walk away when an unbreakable grip yanked him back.  Calhoun
    had set Tom down to adjust the rifle. "You're going nowhere.  Both of
    you agreed to do whatever I said.  She didn't listen.  We are not risking
    three lives for one.  Got it?" 
    
    "But - " 
    
    "Got it?" 
    
    "You're a cold-blooded son a bitch!" 
    
    "Bastard.  I'm a cold-blooded bastard, Xander, get it right.  And I've
    got my orders." 
    
    "But Faith!" 
    
    "She knows where we are.  How the hell could we find her with six minutes
    left and a whole town to search?" 
    
    "Then I'll stay!" pleaded the young man.  His shoulder hurt when the
    vampire released him. 
    
    Calhoun gave him a look that asked, 'Are you nuts?' before lifting Tom
    again. 
    
    "Move," he commanded and Xander shook his head helplessly, hating the
    soldier. He'd get back. Somehow. Who wanted to live in a terrarium anyway?
    
    They entered the library. 
    
    Calhoun froze so abruptly Xander walked into him. 
    
    Faith waited by the hellmouth.  Faith and a female vampire.  He could
    smell the insanity in her.  She was the one who had hurt Tom. 
    
    "James?" whispered a faint voice.  He glanced down as Tom stirred.  The
    dark eyes were looking at him with awe and love.  Clearly Tom had expected
    to die. 
    
    "It's alright," he whispered. 
    
    "How sweet," snapped Faith.  "The glory hound won't share his soap box."
    
    "Get out of my way," ordered Calhoun. 
    
    The other woman smiled.  "Oh, very nicely said, Daddy. Tell me, do /you/
    see me in your wife?" 
    
    He didn't react.  He could feel Xander shivering with fear. Tom shuddered,
    and that worried him. Had Dru meant Tom? 
    
    Faith smirked.  "Careful, Dru, he killed his wife." 
    
    Dru stood on tip-toe to look at Tom from three yards away.  "They don't
    look dead yet."  She looked at Faith.  "Your ride's here, Queeny, why
    don't you take your winnings and get the hell out of Dodge?  Jimmy won't
    mind." 
    
    "Jimmy's in love.  I don't think he's going to give up his prom date
    so easily," pouted the Slayer.  She lifted her hand.  She carried a bloodstained
    stake and her intent was obvious. He didn't know where she'd gotten it
    but it looked at home in her hands. Curved and pointy. Hand carved. 
         
    "What the hell do you think you're doing?" demanded Calhoun.  "Move,
    Faith!  We've got three minutes!" 
    
    "/We/ have three minutes, Sabbat," she answered. 
    
    Calhoun turned to Xander and had him support Tom as he unslung his rifle.
    He knew he'd never get a shot off at this range but it did have an eighteen-inch
    bayonet and this he drew out and fixed to the end of the gun. 
    
    "We're leaving.  Now." 
    
    Faster than thought, he rushed Drusilla, swinging the rifle across his
    body.  She dodged, but Faith, his intended target, got the butt-end of
    the rifle smashed into her side with enough force to send her flying.
    
    "Faith!" cried Xander as Drusilla took up the assault on her newest infatuation.
    She staggered over to him, holding her side, and helped him support Tom.
    
    "Come on, Xander.  He's crazy!" 
    
    "He was going to leave you here!  He wouldn't let me go find you!" 
    
    "Come on!" 
    
    She urged them to the wormhole that abruptly opened by the circulation
    desk. 
    
    Tom lifted his head.  He felt so incredibly drained. "James?" 
    
    "He left you here," Faith replied softly.  "He's off with Drusilla."
    
    "Huh?  No!" breathed Tom.  He twisted about and saw the battle going
    on behind him just as Calhoun broke the rifle across Drusilla's ribs.
    She laughed and Tom knew Faith lied.  "James!" 
    
    "Go!"  The Slayer shoved Xander and Tom into the wormhole, then paused,
    hefting the stake.  Not an easy shot.  If she missed, he would come back
    to kill her some day. 
    
    She aimed, and threw the stake. 
    
    A very satisfying scream echoed in her ears as she plunged into the wormhole,
    then staggered into the council room to Xander's waiting arms.  
    *** 
    
    James screamed again as the insane vampire pulled the stake out of his
    arm. She held him in a macabre embrace. "Don't worry, daddy...she won't
    hurt him. Not ever. I'll show her her brains if she harms one hair on
    his head. Stupid Queeny." 
    
    "You..." He gasped in pain as she threw him against the wall. "You hurt
    him." 
    
    "Things were better before they came. The Queen and the King..." She
    smiled. "He was wishing he would die, you know. When I was drinking."
    
    "Liar!" He jumped at her, screaming again as she buried the stake in
    his stomach. "He...would nev..." 
    
    "No...not when he's going to be a mommy again. You're right." 
    
    "What?"  He felt blood in his mouth and he knew he was hurt badly.  
    
    Drusilla leaned close and kissed him on the lips, drinking the blood
    that frothed at his mouth.  His hand grouped for the fallen rifle, closing
    on the barrel.  This gun that had served him since Korea... 
    
    He gripped the bayonet then buried it up to the barrel in her ribs with
    one vicious swipe, dragging it down between her ribs.  She gasped in
    pain, drawing away, then smiled. 
    
    "Tit for tat, huh, lover?" she breathed slowly. 
    
    "Fuck you, bitch." 
    
    "No, that's what you and The Arcanum did to your bitch the Slayer." She
    rolled away, yanking out the blade and dropping it to the floor.  "Don't
    go far, lover, I want Spike to see what he's up against now." She giggled,
    staggering towards the hall. Her skirts trailed behind her. 
        
    *** 
    
    Ray closed the door to the bedroom they'd put Tom in and approached the
    bed. Aja was sitting next to his sleeping father, worried. Tom had been
    sleeping ever since he'd returned. Mina was concerned, talking about
    complications from what had happened with Sophia and wanting to run tests.
    She'd gone to "borrow" hospital equipment, leaving them with orders to
    wake Tom in an hour and get some broth into him. 
    
    "Hey, daddy-o. How's he doing?" 
    
    "He feels wrong." 
    
    Ray tilted his head. "I don't understand." 
    
    Aja shook his head. "Something feels wrong. Here." He touched Tom's stomach,
    pulling back as his father gasped in apparent pain. 
    
    "I'll call Mina. Tell her to hurry." He was about to leave when Aja shook
    his head. "No?" Aja took his hand, laying it on Tom's stomach. He frowned.
    "What is it?" He felt a swell. It was small, but it was there. Then a
    kick. "Aja, what is it?" 
    
    He took the card Aja proffered and looked at it. "The light?" 
    
    Aja nodded. "Ray, I'm afraid for him...why?" 
    
    "I'll find out." 
    
    *** 
    
    Xander sat next to Faith outside. "I'm sorry they're treating you like
    this. They don't understand that you aren't the same..." 
    
    She smiled. "And you do?" 
    
    "Well...yeah." 
    
    "Yeah?" 
    
    "The Faith you were before tried to throttle me during um..." He cleared
    his throat, looking away. 
    
    She looked down. "I'm sorry." 
    
    "Hey," he waved her apologies off casually. 
    
    "No." She made him look at her. "Really." She kissed him gently. 
    
    *** 
    
    Fraser was sitting in the kitchen when Vecchio came in, carrying his
    son. "Jamey got left behind?" 
    
    Fraser nodded. "Turnbull's going to go back for him tonight.  We tried
    opening another wormhole but it wouldn't take.  He thinks if we give
    it a little time, it might work." 
    
    "Good luck."  He balanced Ray Jr. as he opened the refrigerator.  "How
    is Tom taking it?"  
    
    Fraser hesitated.  "Not well," he finally said in the understatement
    of the century. 
    
    *** 
    
    Even when Ma brought him Sophia, Tom barely reacted, just lay staring
    at the ceiling. Despair was written in his eyes.  He had given up.  James
    was gone.  He couldn't sense him anymore.  He was gone. 
    
    Mina ran her tests and did not like the results any more the second and
    third time she ran them. 
    
    "Well?" asked Ray, waiting in the hall with Aja and Fraser. 
    
    "He's going to have another baby," she whispered softly. 
    
    Ray blinked, looking at Fraser to verify that he'd heard correctly. 
    "Talk about yer Irish twins!  Jeez!  He's a demonic Tribble." 
    
    "Ray," admonished the Mountie softly.  "Mina, I though he wasn't capable
    of carrying another child." 
    
    "He's not.  Not safely, anyway." She didn't elaborate.
    
    Ray looked a tad nervous.  "Uh...any clue who the father might be?" 
    
    "I think he knows, but he won't tell me." She wasn't sure he'd tell anyone.
    
    Ray sighed, holding onto Aja for comfort.  "Let me go talk ta him.  I'll
    tell him what Turnbull's got planned.  See if I can't snap him out of
    it a bi-" 
    
    He broke off as Faith appeared at the end of the hall.  Ray's body language
    went from worried to raw fury.  "Uh, Frase, you an' Aja go talk ta Tom.
    I'll be right in." 
    
    "Ray..." 
    
    "Promise I won't kick 'er in the head too hard, Frase." 
    
    He stopped her outside the council room door, making sure the hall was
    empty.  Not that the Giovanni or Tremere cared.  Their memories were
    long and forgiveness was not in their vocabularies. 
    
    "Faith." 
    
    "Detective Kowalski." 
    
    "Quick question fer ya," he said pleasantly. 
    
    She smiled faintly.  "Fire away." 
     
    Oh, if only she knew... In the next instant she was shoved against the
    wall, standing on her tip-toes with Ray's arm against her throat and
    his fangs inches from her frightened face. 
    
    "Where the fuck is my retainer?" he hissed.  "What the hell did you do
    to him?  Bastards like Calhoun aren't stopped by too much of anything
    on this earth or beneath it.  Where is he?" 
    
    "He went off with Drusilla, I'm telling you!" 
    
    "How the fuck you know the bitch's name?" 
    
    "T-Tom!" 
    
    "Oh?  How come the Grissom I helped scrape off the floor barely remembered
    how to breathe, let alone name names?" 
    
    She hesitated. 
    
    "What. Did. You. Do. To. My. Retainer."  With each word he pressed a
    little closer until she was gasping and struggling. 
    
    And then she stopped. The grin that slowly spread on her face was familiar.
    And insane. "Spike tried that once. Wyrm didn't like it. Pulled me out
    just before the little bitch bit it." She shoved Ray away, cracking her
    neck. Lilith. He shivered. 
    
    "You." 
    
    "This one...she is different. Stable. Kind of." She smiled, examining
    her fingers. She pulled the stake out of Faith's pocket. "She's fighting
    me. Strange that. She cares about those two the most, Tom and Xander.
    Maybe even loves them." She rushed him, kicking him in the shin.  "She
    doesn't give a damn about you, though, Prince Kowalski." 
    
    He had to bite back the cry of pain. Had it been Lilith all along? Faith,
    a scared girl stuck behind the guise of a nutso vampire queen? 
    
    "Tom and Xander. The whore and the loser. Pathetic." She looked up as
    Vecchio entered, followed by Xander. They looked aghast. She smiled.
    
    "Faith...?" 
    
    "Guess again." She had the stake pressed against Ray's chest when her
    arm brushed against him. The heat that was part of Ray now burned her.
    She fell back, gasping, Faith trying to bubble to the surface. "Xan...Xander..."
    
    Ray had her pinned in a second. "Get Turnbull! Now!" 
    
    *** 
    
    Fraser sat beside Tom's bed, watching him pretend to sleep. "Tom?" he
    finally said, his voice feeling rather loud in the quiet room. "Tom,
    the father..." 
    
    "I don't know," Tom whispered. "I honestly have no fucking clue." His
    voice was throaty. He sounded like he'd been crying. Had he? Fraser hadn't
    heard it. "I don't remember anything that could've..." 
    
    Fraser nodded. "All right, Tom." He wasn't sure he believed him.  He
    could hear Tom's crying now and it worried him. He rubbed his eyebrow
    nervously and wished Ray would get here quickly. 
    
    Tom's sobs were getting harder, almost bone wracking. "Tom...Tom, we'll
    get him back. Soon." 
    
    "Fraser?" 
    
    "Yes?" 
    
    "Go to hell." 
     
    *** 
    
    James woke up to the sound of screaming. He tried to sit up, regretting
    the sudden move when he stomach flared in pain. "Ow..." 
    
    The screams started again. Then stopped. He closed his eyes, letting
    his head drop back. He didn't feel up to investigating.  He'd been impaled,
    the stake driven through his body to the carpeted floor beneath.  Damnation,
    this hurt.  He'd been wounded on numerous occasions and the past and
    he knew exactly what had needed to do: feed, get underground, and let
    his body heal.  In that order.  He knew he'd never get home if he did
    anything else. 
    
    His hands found the stake and carefully he began to loosen it from the
    floor.  He grunted when it came free.  He was not pleased with himself.
    Her comment about Tom being a mother again was disturbing and it had
    distracted him enough that this was the result.  Sloppy soldiering, Major.
    The last thing Tom needed right now was to be pregnant and Calhoun knew
    he didn't want to share the psychic's attention with anyone or deal with
    /another/ rape.  Tom had suffered quite enough for his children. 
    
    He'd broken the psychic link.  He knew Tom would assume him dead and
    the thought disturbed him, but at the same time, Tom couldn't handle
    the pain of these wounds or this burning hunger as his body demanded
    nourishment.  He needed to move.  He needed to do it now. 
    
    He also needed to get this damned spike out of his liver.  He didn't
    give himself a chance to think, just yanked it out. 
    
    The sound was hideous.  He threw it aside amidst blood-stained books
    and just lay still for a few minutes, trying not to scream.  Worse than
    getting hit by that panzerfaust in Belgium.  He grouped about until his
    hand closed on cold metal.  He loosened the bayonet from the broken rifle
    and slid the blade into his boot.  Then he crawled, dragging himself
    forward, ignoring the screams echoing down the halls. 
    
    He couldn't bring himself to care. If he did he'd die. 
    
    *** 
    
    Fraser looked up as Ray entered the bedroom. He was secretly relieved.
    His attempts to talk to Tom were met with either dead silence or being
    told to, "shut the hell up".  Tom was either sleeping or pretending to
    sleep again. 
    
    "Ray." 
    
    "How's he doin'?" Ray sat beside Fraser, taking his hand. "Any better?"
    
    "Not really." 
    
    The sobbing started again. Ray looked at Fraser who sighed. He didn't
    have it in him to try again. He realized Tom was still asleep and sighed
    again.  He made no protest when Ray went and sat on the bed, then began
    to stroke Tom's dark hair, whispering words to sooth him. 
    
    *** 
    
    Turnbull stared at the cover of the Necronomicon. He didn't want to do
    this. He'd had bad experiences with both exorcisms and the dead book.
    He looked to Warfield for help. "I shouldn't be doing this...Tom knows
    how, I can't...." 
    
    "You can. The Seer is...out of commission. You can, and you will." 
    
    Seeker Turnbull turned back towards the restrained Faith, and rubbed
    a hand over his hair. "God..." He closed his eyes for a moment.  "Renfield..."
    
    "I'm right here," he answered immediately.  "Don't be afraid." 
    
    Warfield smiled.  Renfield was a good man.  Braver than anyone allowed.
    He handed the Seeker the book and tightened the ropes on Faith's arms.
    Maybe now they could see if the girl really had changed for the better.
    
    *** 
    
    "Thomas..." Her voice was soft. "Thomas, it's all right..." 
    
    He shook, shuddering. "No...never..." 
    
    He felt gentle hands stroking him, warm, caring. Very warm. Almost fevered.
    Not James.  James was gone.  Why had the Sabbat saved Tom if he hadn't
    saved himself?  Didn't he see that their lives were one in the same?
    As Kowalski had given his soul to Fraser for safe keeping, so Tom had
    silently sworn his life, indeed, his very existence, to the raven-haired
    vampire that had defied a queen to save him. 
    
    He wanted to die. Very badly, he wished that Drusilla had killed him.
    
    "Thomas, you must live.  For her sake." 
    
    Marianne. 
    
    "Leave me alone," he ordered, trying to turn away.  Someone held him
    fast. 
    
    "Thomas, I am part of you for now, all of us, just as she is." 
    
    "Who the hell is this 'she' you keep going on about?" 
    
    Marianne smiled gently.  "My daughter.  Your daughter.  James' daughter."
    
    "What?" 
    
    "James didn't know.  I hadn't told him yet then I never got the chance.
    I was...I was going to have another baby." 
    
    "You..." 
    
    "When we entered you in Baltimore - " 
    
    "You...James is gone."  He looked away from her face, so like his own.
    This is what had happened to Irene and Stella only he didn't have the
    comfort of welcoming the pregnancy, of having the father around.  He
    could feel himself crying.  Too much.  It was too much, too soon.  He
    didn't want this.  At all. 
    
    They had to have known what would happen when they entered him. It was
    like Cecil and Anastasia all over again.  No better than rape. 
    
    "James," he whispered, knowing he sounded as pathetic as he felt.  "James."
    
    Kowalski's voice.  "We'll get him back, Tom." 
    
    He shook his head.  "He's the father." He tried to burrow deeper into
    the blankets and pillows, tears falling very quickly now. He was falling
    apart. Again. Definitely like Cecil all over again. 
    
    *** 
    
    Ray took a deep breath, trying to think of a time when Tom and Dead Man
    could have possibly...gone about another kid.  He couldn't think of one.
    "Tom..." 
    
    "James'. But not mine..." 
    
    "Not yours?" Ray didn't understand. Tom was shaking so bad it took every
    ounce of strength to keep him still. He'd sent Fraser to get Mina again.
    Maybe she could give him something. Something safe, to calm him down
    enough to listen. 
    
    "Not mine...like Ray's son isn't Stella's..."  
    
    "Okay.  I'm with ya on that.  How?" 
    
    "In Baltimore.  The Slayers entered me." 
    
    "Who's the mum, then?" 
    
    "Marianne.  She was pregnant when she died." 
    
    Ray blinked.  "Kin ya do that?  Human?" 
    
    His tone was of total shock and Tom had to smile the least bit.  Kowalski
    was a good man.  So many people he knew would have been repulsed at the
    notion of a male bearing a child and here he was nothing more than a
    little surprised and curious.  No wonder Fraser loved him so.  He didn't
    question, he simply accepted. 
    
    "I...don't know." 
    
    Chewing on his lip, Ray abruptly twitched and Tom realized he'd forgotten
    about his fangs and had hurt himself.  Despite himself, his absolute
    misery and despair, Tom chuckled. 
    
    James was right. 
    
    Stan was a lousy vampire. 
        
    *** 
    
    Frobisher stood sentry outside of the consulate. He didn't want to, but
    he'd promised Benton. And a promise was a promise and besides, even furious,
    Thatcher was extremely gentle on the eyes... 
    
    Something red caught his eye. "Robert?" 
    
    Nothing. 
    
    *** 
    
    /Three years and the Slayer's still a wreck?/ 
    
    "Dad?" Fraser stood outside the bedroom, and stared.  "Where have you
    been?  I haven't seen you in three years!"  
    /You've been in a fish bowl.  The whole city has.  Trust me, I've been
    trying to get through.  Hasn't been easy.  How's the Yank?/ 
    
    "He's...he's a vampire now, Dad.  He went over again and Caine made him
    a fire vampire." 
    
    /Fire vampire?  Why?/ 
    
    "Apparently they're the bane of Wyrm." 
    
    /Can the Yank handle that?/ 
    
    "He's...dealing with it, Dad." 
    
    /Hmm...not very well, I warrant./ 
    
    "He won't hunt." 
    
    /And the Slayer?  What's his problem?/ 
    
    "Jamey is gone and he's going to have another baby." 
    
    Robert Fraser cocked his head.  /So he's a wreck./ 
    
    "Basically." 
    
    /Demons aren't too subtle in their procreation.  That the problem?/ 
    
    "Partially.  I think losing Jamey is the worser, though." 
    
    /You're sure he's gone?  He was an ornery bastard.  About as tough to
    kill as a cockroach, I'd say./ 
    
    "We're not sure.  Turnbull and I are going to try to find him as soon
    as we can re-establish a wormhole to Sunnydale." 
    
    /What happened?/ 
    
    "Lilith was in Faith and Faith wanted Jamey out of the picture because
    she's in love with Tom." 
    
    /Nasty situation, that./ 
    
    "I don't know what to do.  Tom is closing himself off.  Shutting down."
    He rubbed the bridge of his nose. He'd seen Tom lose control, seen him
    near breaking. But it had never been like this. Full of such...despair.
    
    /Can you blame him?  Benton, what would you do if you lost the Yank?
    Would you feel like running out and saving the world?/ 
    
    "I...wouldn't want to live." 
    
    /You need the Slayer and you need him whole.  If his vampire is gone,
    you'll have to find reason to make him want to live.  Perhaps the child.
    Perhaps revenge.  Find something for him to latch on to./ 
    
    "I will.  Thanks, Dad." 
    
    /Oh, and Benton?/ 
    
    "Yeah?" 
    
    /Tell the Yank not to go out alone./ 
    
    "Dad?" 
    
    /Just tell him./ 
    
    ***
    
    He found Spike outside of the high school. Or, more accurately, Spike
    found him.  He was still losing blood and getting very weak. For some
    reason the Anarch's hair was making him giggly. And sneezy. Peroxide
    blonde. That must hurt. He giggled again, slapping bloody hands over
    his mouth. 
    
    Spike stared at him incredulously. Clearly he hadn't been briefed by
    Drusilla yet or impaled elders was a common sight here in Sunnydale.
    "You gotta problem, guy?" 
    
    "Your hair..." He snickered again, feeling rather giddy. He didn't expect
    to fall over.  On the earth.  He was on the earth...It sobered him. 
    He dug his fingers into the soil, letting the calmness of the planet
    clear his thoughts.  He was still, drawing strength from the blood of
    the elders, from Caine, from Lilith, from his prince...  
    Spike looked totally disgusted.  He had no idea of what was wrong with
    this vampire but he stank like no clan he'd ever encountered and his
    blood smelled poisonous. 
    
    "Get away, whatever the hell you are!" 
    
    Calhoun ignored him.  Blood.  He needed blood.  Then he could get underground...
    
    He looked up at the stupid-looking Anarch.  He could tell right now they'd
    have dealings later.  Right now, however, Calhoun only needed one thing
    from blondie here. 
    
    "Didn't she...tell you?" he rasped. 
    
    Spike hesitated.  "What?" 
    
    "She...didn't..." 
    
    He clawed at the earth, coughing.  Spike was curious now. 
     
    "What are you going on about?" 
    
    "Lilith." 
    
    Spike froze. 
    
    /Gotcha./  He lowered his hand to the bayonet. 
    
    He knelt beside the strange vampire.  "What didn't she tell me?" he demanded,
    avoiding Calhoun's touch. 
    
    "'Bout me?" 
    
    "What about you?  Who are you?  What are you?" 
    
    Suddenly Calhoun smiled.  "Autarkis." 
    
    He lashed out with the blade, catching Spike in the throat.  The Anarch
    howled in offended fury as Calhoun lunged, ripping at his neck.  His
    wounded body ached in protest at the abrupt motion, the wound in his
    side screaming in agony.  Spike hissed as Calhoun bit him deeply, drinking
    blood in greedy mouthfuls until the blond managed to yank free.  Spike
    turned, his throat already healing as he turned in a frenzy towards -
    
    Empty air. 
    
    The vampire was gone. 
    
    He looked around, sniffing the air.  The scent was fading.  Where had
    he gone?  Had Drusilla set him up to be attacked?  Or Adolph, for releasing
    the Slayer?  Spike wrinkled his nose, angry and insulted and his ego
    bruised by some poisonous stranger.  He would find that bastard, and
    when he did, he'd pay.  Big time. 
    
    And so would whoever had sent him. He had a feeling it had been Dru.
    They hadn't been the same since he'd let the Slayer at the time kill
    Angelus. 
    
    Bitch. 
    
    *** 
    
    Whatever Mina had given him had obviously made Tom feel a little better.
    Tom stared at Ray through hazy, dilated eyes. "Mm..." He suddenly flopped
    onto his back, running a hand over his face. "You should take the car
    with you..." He chuckled, touching his stomach gently. It hurt less now.
    
    Fraser tilted his head. "The GTO?" 
    
    "No....The Gremlin. You'll need it..." 
    
    "Just to find Jamey?" 
    
    Tom shook his head, "Mmm...No...For the children...." He held his hands
    out to his sides. "You'll have to free them..." 
    
    Fraser leaned down to Ray. "What did she give him?" 
    
    "NyQuil, I think, like an eye dropper full, and one of them children's
    aspirin we got for Aja." 
    
    "Don't take any." 
    
    "You neither." 
    
    *** 
    
    Cool, dark, quiet.  Nothing but him and the earth.  The earth, one of
    the few powers that did not despise him.  He was deep beneath the surface,
    too deep for the Anarch to track if the idiot hadn't seen him leave.
    Here he could sleep.  Heal.  And then he could return to Tom.  And Sophia.
    
    He wished he could show this to Tom. How wonderful it was. How peaceful.
    He opened his mind back up, reopening the connection. Almost immediately
    he felt Tom's mind. It felt hazy. Drugged.  It calmed him more even as
    he calmed his lover and Calhoun fell asleep in the bosom of the earth.
    
    *** 
    
    Tom suddenly smiled, his eyes closing. His body visibly relaxed as he
    curled into the blankets. "He's ok..." 
    
    "Cal?" asked Ray, startled. 
    
    "C'n feel 'em...he's ok...sleepin'..."  
    
    "He ain't the only one." 
        
    *** 
    
    "Let me go!!" Faith shrieked, struggling against the ropes that bound
    her. Lilith was near the surface, Turnbull could tell. He looked down
    at the book. He blamed Tom. Part of him knew it was irrational but he
    still blamed him. 
    
    Before they had brought the Seer to Baltimore, Faith had been quiet.
    Calm. Happy. Tom had come and hell had broken loose.  It seemed the Slayers
    were never destined to be able to find balance or harmony between them.
    
    He blamed Tom. 
    
    But, as before, he was not entirely blameless.  He had brought Tom to
    Baltimore with the intent of using him as bait for Adolph.  God, he was
    trying to do so much. Too much. He had known all along sacrifices would
    be made.  He just didn't want the victims to suffer so brutally. 
    
    Or to be the people that mattered most to him. 
    
    In the months after he had resurrected her, he and Faith had grown close.
    Almost familial. He suspected she didn't have much family. He cared about
    her and it had torn him to see her treated as she had been. 
    
    He would help her. No matter what the cost. 
    
    *** 
    
    Spike was still frowning and snarling to himself when Adolph arrived.
    Perched atop a rock by the flagpole, the tiny demon waited until the
    Anarch stalked over and leveled a hearty glare at the Wyrm child. 
    
    "What happened to you?" snickered Adolph. 
    
    He rubbed at the line on his throat.  "Some weird vampire from god knows
    where showed up.  Pure poison.  He said he was Autarkis.  Tried to feed
    off me." 
    
    "Where is he now?" wondered Adolph, enjoying the lie. 
    
    "Gone.  He vanished." 
    
    "What did he look like?" 
    
    Spike shrugged, remembering the other man's amusement and suddenly very
    conscious of his hair.  "He was all in black.  Black hair.  Funny accent."
    
    "What?" hissed the demon, sitting up straighter. 
    
    "He knew about Lilith." 
    
    "What color were his eyes?" 
    
    "Blue.  Almost white." 
    
    "Fool!  That was Calhoun!  The Slayer's lover!  The Slayer is back in
    Chicago!  Damn you!"  His tail lashed in anger and his claws dug into
    the rock as easily as if it was clay. 
    
    "Aww, what, Adolph, suddenly getting all family on me?  Go run home to
    daddy!" 
    
    "Fool!  You should have killed him!  Now you've helped him!  Get back
    to the fields!  Kill all of them!" 
    
    "But - " 
    
    "Kill them or turn them, but destroy that field!  Now!" 
    
    Spike was aghast. "But why?" 
    
    "The Slayer will send the Ghoulite and the Born and Bred." 
    
    "Who?" 
    
    *** 
    
    Fraser found Xander sitting on the back entrance, head buried in his
    hands. He sat next to the young man, not sure how to comfort. 
    
    "Why do I always fall for people that are so hard to love?" Xander wondered
    aloud. Ampata. Cordelia. Anya. Faith. 
    
    Fraser studied his boots.  "Perhaps it's the appeal of the exotic.  A
    sense of challenge." 
    
    As he spoke Diefenbaker wandered up and snuggled between them, wrapping
    his arms around Fraser and nudging him to be petted. 
    
    "Did you ever fall for someone that didn't love you?" asked the boy,
    joining Fraser in spoiling the werewolf. 
    
    A distant look in his eyes, Fraser nodded.  "I did indeed, Xander." 
    
    "What'd you do?" 
    
    "I found someone that suited me better."  He smiled at the thought of
    Ray, remembering that first day, that hug, falling in love before the
    sun had gone down on that traumatic day. 
    
    "Could you get me the name of your tailor, then?" 
    
    *** 
    
    Aja climbed onto the bed beside Tom and watched his father sleep. Cassie
    was sitting in the chair next to the bed. She wouldn't look at her brother
    or her father, resigning herself to feeding her baby sister.  Something
    was bothering her and Aja didn't care what. He knew of her animosity
    towards him and had no time for it. 
    
    Ray had told him that James was all right but he was still afraid. And
    very tired. He lay down next to his father, curling as close as possible.
    He was asleep rather quickly. 
    
    *** 
    
    "Turnbull..." Faith's breathing was coming in short gasps. Turnbull was
    worried.  He felt her pulse, weak and thready. "I can't...I can't breathe..."
    
    Lilith. Lilith was hurting her. Trying to make him stop. He continued
    chanting, taking his eyes off her. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment,
    not certain he could trust them any more.  
    The Necronomicon seemed to have opened a doorway to hell. 
        
    *** 
    
    Xander buried his face in his hands again. "She had changed. Really."
    
    "I'm sure she had," Fraser smiled, not believing it for a second.  
    
    "The Faith you knew was a little whacko, I know. But this version. She
    was cool. Nice.  And I think she liked me.  A little, anyway.  'Til Tom
    came along." 
    
    Fraser snorted at the notion of Calhoun tolerating any competition. 
    "I wouldn't worry about Tom, Xander.  He's rather taken." 
    
    "S'long as it's not with Faith, okay." 
    
    "They had a..." Fraser searched for an appropriate word, "A history."
    
    Xander snorted this time, "She told me she boffed him in the nut house.
    Turnbull said they gave him double dosage that day." He made a buzzing
    noise and Fraser winced. "Sorry." 
    
    "Hmm."
    
    *** 
    
    Mina was hurrying down the hall when the tremor started.  She paused,
    frightened, as she heard glass shatter and Sophia's frightened cries.
    Voices rose and a smell of sulfur permeated the air.  She looked at the
    council room door.  It seemed to be warping, as if reality was being
    twisted from within that chamber. 
    
    "Renfield!" 
    
    She tried to rush to the door, but strong arms in red serge seized her
    from behind. 
    
    "Get outside!" screamed Fraser.  "Xander, find the others!" 
    
    The Mountie pulled her towards the rear door before returning to the
    headquarters. He ran smack into Ray herding Cassie with Sophia and Adam
    out the door. 
    
    "What the hell's going on?" called Ray, confused. 
    
    "Hell," replied Fraser.  "Where's Tom?" 
    
    "In the room.  I'll help ya!" 
    
    "No!  Go get Turnbull out of here!  And Faith!" 
    
    Ray nodded and ran off, staggering down the hall as the earth shook and
    heaved.  He stared at the door, more afraid for that big, goofy, Mountie
    than of some funky door.  It took him three tries to grip the doorknob
    and when conventional methods failed, he put all his undead strength
    into kicking it in. 
    
    Fraser had never been more right in his life. 
    
    It was Hell. 
    
    *** 
    
    Tom was struggling to wake up when Fraser entered the bedroom. Everything
    looked hazy and smelled funny. He'd been having the strangest dream.
    About Spike and James slashing at him with a huge knife. He closed his
    eyes again. 
    
    "Tom?" Fraser slapped at his face but he couldn't get Tom to open his
    eyes. He sighed, dragging Tom into a sitting position and finally getting
    him over his shoulder. He stumbled towards the door. Tom felt a little
    heavier and he smelled strange. 
    
    *** 
    
    Ray stared at the behemoth hovering on the ceiling over Faith. Not Wyrm.
    Not Adolph. It looked vaguely female with huge wings and horns and it
    was the color of old blood.  He wasn't sure what the fuck it was. Faith
    was screaming, her face a mask of pure terror. Turnbull had his eyes
    squeezed shut and was shaking badly, unable to tear himself away from
    the book before him. 
    
    Ray could barely move a muscle. He shook, staring at the thing on the
    ceiling. It was screaming. 
    
    It looked right at him and he felt his knees give out. 
    
    Lilith. 
    
    *** 
    
    Fraser finally managed to get Tom out the door, Mina and Warfield taking
    the psychic from his arms. The Slayer was struggling to wake up and failing
    miserably. Falling hard. They lowered him to the ground as Fraser stared
    back at the building, worried. 
    
    Ray still had not come out. When Dief howled and turned into a white
    and gray werewolf, Fraser ran. 
    
    *** 
    
    Tom felt weightless. He could feel cold hands on his face, trying to
    force him awake. Nothing worked. He was floating, he thought, in a pool
    of warm and murky water. 
    
    "Daddy?" 
    
    The voice was unrecognizable. He didn't know it at all. It sounded warped.
    Like thousands of voices all at once. 
    
    "Daddy...?" 
    
    He opened his mouth to answer, getting a mouthful of water. He coughed.
    
    *** 
    
    Calhoun was not dreaming. About Tom. About their last...encounter.  No.
    He was reliving it, his weary mind replaying the moments as they slowly
    bubbled to the surface of his semi-conscious mind. Haziness had led to
    memory loss, but he could remember it had been slow. Had been wonderful.
    None of their usually fast paced psychic stuff or Tom's kink. Just...nice.
    Romantic. Slow. 
    
    He'd give anything for that right now. 
    
    "Would you?" he heard in his head, a whisper. Tom.  He was awake, after
    a fashion. 
    
    *** 
    
    "Tom?" 
    
    /James?/ he wondered.  /No.../ 
    
    He tried to open his eyes. Nothing. He could barely move, could barely
    think. But he could feel. And he felt.... 
    
    He felt very good. 
    
    He felt James Calhoun reaching for him, holding him dear, as if Tom Grissom
    was something worthy of being worshipped... 
    
    /You are.../ 
    
    /No.../ 
    
    He could almost feel James' frown against his lips. /Why not? Because
    of what you are?/ 
    
    /Yes...I.../ He was cut off.  Calhoun would not tolerate his lover self-deprecating
    tone.  There was a tightness in Tom's chest.  /Love me/, he begged. 
    
    /Forever/, came the reply. 
    
    *** 
    
    Lilith. He should have known she was too damned evil to die. 
     
    And now she was a monstrous creature.  Ray stared, unable to look away.
    She smiled at his expression and his fear.  It was chilling. 
        
    "You like my new look, Prince Kowalski?  Courtesy of Wyrm!  He owed me
    big after he let me die to keep your sorry carcass alive.  Guess what?
    You're obsolete!  The gloves are off!" 
    
    She swooped, and suddenly Ray was enfolded in leathery wings that stank
    of sulfur and death and rot.  Her flesh was like sandpaper and she was
    hideously strong as she dug her clawed fingers into his shoulder and
    side.  He tried to fight but he was helpless against her.  She leaned
    over him.  Everything about her was bigger and the face she wore was
    the first one he had seen almost four years ago when they had called
    her Victoria.  Inches away from him, her tongue reached between her lips
    and tasted his skin as if relearning him after all this time. 
    
    "A true vampire prince now," she mocked as he tried to struggle.  Her
    breath stank like soured meat.  "You reek of Caine." 
    
    "Fuck you!" he snapped, trying to free himself.  He felt like screaming.
    
    "And you corrupted my lieutenant..." 
    
    "No!  You abused the shit out of him and I just gave him a chance!" 
    
    He felt her long, spiky tail wrap around and around him, pinning his
    arms. He couldn't see Turnbull.  She had him tented in with those wings.
    He hoped the Seeker was able to get away. He could give a shit less about
    Faith. 
    
    "And you consorted with my enemies.  With CAINE!"  She stamped a cloven
    hoof.  Right on his knee. He screamed. "You betrayed me for CAINE!  After
    all I did for you, you ungrateful whelp." 
    
    Oh, this was not looking good.  Where the hell was Fraser and what the
    hell could he do once he got here? 
    
    She seized him by the jaw and he felt a crack as she yanked him around
    to face her.  "I think it's time I offed everyone who betrayed me.  Next
    will be your Mounted Slayer.  Then I'll find Calhoun and his whore and
    his little bastard son, and his bitch daughter and kill the lot of them.
    Too bad you won't get to see it, Prince Kowalski." 
    
    Ray's head was shoved back and an iron grip clamped onto his neck, dragging
    him close as Lilith buried her fangs into his neck, drinking so deeply
    Ray started losing consciousness almost instantly. 
    
    "N-no!" he clawed uselessly at her.  "No!  Frase - FRASER!" 
    
    She laughed at him and his puny efforts.  Then... 
    
    She stopped. 
    
    Her throat.  Her stomach.  Burning.  Burning hotter than the Inferno
    below the earth. 
    
    Ray dropped, smashing onto the mahogany table from ten feet above it.
    Lilith threw her head back, screaming.  
    
    Fraser appeared in the door.  He recognized Lilith immediately and let
    out a shout.  "RAY!" 
        
    This was not like the Sabbat blood.  This was like nothing she could
    remember encountering before. 
    
    And this body could not die so easily as the last few shells.  The torture
    would go on until the blood was gone... 
    
    Through his haze, Ray could suddenly hear renewed chanting. He could
    make out a figure in red beside Turnbull.  Fraser.  Lilith's screams
    grew louder, more horrific as she was pulled into the book. A terrible
    wind rushed towards the book, catching Lilith in a funnel that twisted
    and yanked her into the abyss that had spawned her.  She screamed, as
    much in agony as in fury as she whipped back into Hell.  
    Then it was over, Fraser and Turnbull slammed the book shut together.
    Turnbull sank to the bed beside the sobbing Faith, pulling her into an
    embrace. 
    
    Fraser would have sworn the Seeker looked almost...affectionate towards
    her.  
    He hurried to Ray's side where the detective lay on the table.  The wounds
    in his throat were closing.  Gently, Fraser gathered him into his arms.
    Still so light in his arms.  He sat on the floor, holding Ray tight to
    his chest. 
    
    "She's back," whispered Ray.  His hand grouped for anything to hold on
    Fraser and finally settled on his cross-belt.  "Oh, god, Frase, she's
    back." 
        
    *** 
    
    /Love you.../ 
    
    /I know. Love you./ Calhoun's voice was a tickle in Tom's ear. 
    
    /Hurry back.../ 
    
    /Yes.../ He felt ghostly fingers brush his stomach, and took in a pained
    breath. /I'm sorry.../ 
    
    /It was them...not your fault.../ 
    
    /What?/ 
    
    /Stay there.  Turnbull and Fraser will come for you./ 
    
    /No.  It's too dangerous.  I'll get away.  I'll get home to you./ 
    
    /James.../ 
    
    /I love you.  Sleep, Tom.  Sleep and don't dream./ 
    
    *** 
     
    They were badly shaken, all of them.  That had been too close for anyone's
    comfort, but at least the Faith that sat by the fire in the sitting room
    bore little resemblance to the young girl of the previous days.  There
    was still something between her and Tom though, Turnbull could feel it
    the moment the deliriously happy psychic came wandering into the sitting
    room that night. 
    
    He'd managed to convince Turnbull and Fraser not to go to California
    as they had planned.  James, he said, was incapable of moving yet and
    it was simply too dangerous with the combined forces of Spike, Drusilla,
    and Adolph.  In his usual manic/depressive way, Tom had gone from crushing
    despair to elation in the span of a day and while they couldn't get him
    to talk two days ago, now he could give Fraser a run for his money. 
    
    He sat now, cradling Sophia in his arms as he chatted away at Faith and
    a less than enraptured Xander.  Talking about James.  Always James. 
    Turnbull decided that was good.  Maybe it would bore Faith to the point
    where her interest in her fellow Slayer waned.  Tom seemed oblivious
    to her interest and Turnbull wondered if this was simply a defense mechanism
    on Tom's part. 
    
    He himself was badly shaken.  He'd thought he'd be able to control the
    exorcism.  If Ray and then Fraser hadn't arrived, he shuddered to think
    what would have happened to him and Faith. 
    
    Ray Kowalski had not fared very well.  Every spot where Lilith had touched
    his exposed skin was discolored and tender.  It was very strange for
    a vampire to have such reactions to anything, but Lilith certainly was
    not just anything.  At least she had received the worst of it. 
    
    He still didn't understand what had hurt her so much. Ray's blood? It
    was possible, but he wasn't Sabbat. Was it something about being a fire
    vampire?  Certainly he didn't fit the bill for any of the clans that
    Turnbull knew about.  It didn't make sense. He sighed, looking back towards
    Faith. He felt Mina sit next to him, her arm going around his shoulders.
    "She'll be all right," Mina whispered, knowing what was bothering him.
    "Are you?" 
    
    "I don't know." He leaned into her, sighing. "Have you spoken with Lucia
    or Jay yet?" 
    
    "I haven't been able to find them since we came back." The sound of her
    voice was disturbing. She was afraid for them. Her McGet brother and
    sister.  
    
    "Maybe Warfield's and Zuko's clans can keep an eye out for them." 
    
    She nodded at the suggestion.  "I'd be grateful if they could.  I'm worried."
    
    *** 
    
    Xander listened as Tom talked at Faith, feeling her hurt and pain at
    his seeming rejection of her. He took her hand under the table, and squeezed.
    He felt her look at him and looked at her. She was smiling weakly. 
        
    He squeezed again, and got a squeeze back. Let the Slaying bastard talk
    all he wanted. He had Faith now. 
    
    *** 
    
    Tom smiled brightly as Fraser came up to him the next morning.  The Slayer
    Born was feeding Sophia and making sure Adam ate all his cereal. "Benton."
    He sounded extremely happy and he looked elated. 
    
    "Tom." Fraser wasn't sure how to go about this. It would be dangerous.
    Very dangerous. What if it didn't work correctly? Or what if it worked
    too well?  He talked it over last night with Turnbull and Warfield, the
    idea having come from the mind of a very tired but clear-headed Ray Kowalski.
    "Tom, do you remember how Turnbull brought us to Baltimore?" 
    
    "Yeah." He handed Fraser Sophia for a moment as he poured himself more
    juice, talking all the while.  "The cards. And a spell." Tom paused,
    peering at Fraser.  His dark eyes narrowed. "What's going on?" 
    
    "We've got an idea." 
    
    *** 
    
    Calhoun lay beneath the earth, feeling very calm. Sleeping, but not.
    Dreaming, but not. Everything was still, murky and content.   He'd been
    here for several days.  He still hurt.  He needed more blood to heal
    faster, though what he'd taken from Spike would suffice if he were patient.
    Suddenly the connection to Tom flared, opening larger.  Not just primal
    feelings and faint voices.  Light spilled into him.  
    He felt dizzy, off balance as his mind was thrust into his lover's. He
    felt a strangeness, a duality.  Is that what pregnancy felt like for
    Tom?  Or was it just because he was abruptly as much Tom Grissom as he
    was James Calhoun? 
    
    /Tom??/ 
    
    /It's all right...don't be afraid./ 
    
    Images assailed his mind. Shackles. A bookstore.  Booths.  Marianne.
    A baby. Several babies. Marianne again. Was Tom doing this? Or was he
    seeing something in Tom's mind? 
    
    He wasn't sure he wanted to know. 
    
    *** 
    
    Tom sat on the bed, breathing shallowly. He felt buried. Like he was
    deep underground and he was having a lot of trouble taking in breaths.
    James was hurt very badly and now that they were embedded so deeply in
    each other's minds, he could feel it. It was beyond painful. They'd have
    to work quickly. 
    
    He felt fingers touch his cheek, then his neck. Warm, too warm. Almost
    burning. Prince Kowalski. Ray. "I think it's working, Frase..."  
    
    He clenched the cards in his hand and his head tilted back hard enough
    for his neck to crack and his mind to reel.  He grit his teeth in pain,
    squeezing the cards tighter. They cut into his hands. 
        
    He could see Sunnydale now. The library. The Bronze. The long-dead garden
    around the high school's flagpole, the patch of earth that had welcomed
    his lover. Then underground where all was dark and quiet. He could see
    James, still and pale and he reached out a hand. He was shaking badly.
    He could feel confusion radiating off of the Sabbat, sense the effort
    he had taken earlier to hide his pain from Tom.  "Got him...gothim...thinkIvegothim..."
    His words were running together, fast.  "Hold on...hold on, James..."
    
    He felt a snap and fell back on the bed, hard. Panting. Unable to catch
    a breath.  He felt choked up. Sick to his stomach. He smelled dirt and
    blood.  A weight on top of him was rolled off. "James...?"  
    
    "Love you too, Kinky..." James whispered before passing out. 
    
    "Ohmygod it worked," breathed Ray Kowalski.  He looked at the filthy,
    muddy, bloody, scraped up heap of flesh and bone lying on the bed and
    added, "Ohmygod, he's a mess." 
    
    Zuko frowned from where he watched the proceedings from the door. "He
    needs to feed.  I'll see what I can do." 
    
    Mina immediately set to work. "We've got to get him out of these clothes
    and cleaned up.  Renfield, Benton, help me." 
    
    Tom lifted his head, blinking and dazed.  "James...?" 
    
    "He's here.  Do something useful, Grissom, go ta sleep." 
    
    "I don't wanna sleep, I...ah!" He rolled onto his side, curling into
    himself.  Pain bit at his stomach like acid. "Oh God...oh...God..." 
    
    "Tom? Tom, what's wrong?" Ray stared at him, in shock. He wasn't sure
    what to do. Mina acted quickly as the others got Calhoun into a shower.
    
    Images assailed Tom's brain hard, so hard it hurt. So hard he was sure
    he bit his tongue. Was this what it was like for Ray when he had a flash?
    
    He could see darkness. 
    
    Adolph.  Ray. 
    
    Pain. Blind shooting pain in his ear. 
    
    An alley. 
    
    Pain. Blinding pain. 
    
    The Riviera exploding. 
        
    He couldn't breathe. He could feel the baby squirming, trying to get
    away from the pain, and he felt someone rolling him onto his back. Shouting
    his name. "Oh God...no...no..." 
    
    It wouldn't stop. Why wouldn't it stop? Were /they/ doing this to him?
    A warning? 
    
    *** 
    
    Adolph perched on the flagpole at the school. The Sabbat was home. He
    could feel it. He glared down at Spike and suddenly launched off the
    pole, grabbing Spike in the same way he had caught his father. 
    
    "Where...what's going on?" Spike demanded. "Stop!!!" 
    
    "Shut up. I'm sure your pet psychotic will follow." 
    
    *** 
    
    He did not want to do this.  He hated the man, his smell, his arrogance,
    his clan, his whole existence.  If Warfield hadn't ordered him, he would
    just as soon have let him suffer.  He was Sabbat, for god's sake!  A
    clanless clan of Autarkis outcasts and this bastard was their goddamned
    elder! 
    
    He carried a sealed thermos of warm liquid.  It was blood, all of it
    taken from his own people.  Vampire blood was much better for him at
    this point than human or - Zuko shuddered - animal blood.  Much as he
    would have liked to forget it, they owed Calhoun a debt for saving Lord
    Caine when he was still an infant. 
    
    He wanted to find Prince Kowalski and ask him to do this, but that was
    cowardly even though he knew Kowalski would not have refused.  No, this
    was his job.  He steeled himself.  He did not want to touch a Sabbat.
    
    /Don't think of him as a Sabbat. Your Lord has a prince and this is the
    prince's retainer./ 
    
    It didn't work. 
    
    He entered the darkened room.  Calhoun slept alone.  The Seer was off
    with his children now that they had finally calmed him down. Seems he
    got one of Prince Kowalski's flashes. Zuko was secretly glad he'd been
    spared another bout of that particular type of pain. 
    
    He hated being that close to anyone. 
    
    "Sabbat!  Wake up!  Calhoun!" 
    
    He poked at the sleeping man.  Had Calhoun been healthy Frank most likely
    would have lost a limb.  Calhoun did not take kindly to being touched
    by anyone but Tom when he was asleep.  He groaned, not recognizing this
    place. 
    
    "Calhoun!  Wake up!  Sit up." 
    
    Zuko made no move to help the Sabbat as Calhoun tried to obey.  He couldn't
    do it.  Couldn't sit up or even roll to his side. 
    
    "That you, Zuko?" wondered a faint voice. 
    
    "Yeah.  Got some blood for you.  You have to drink it now.  It's still
    warm." 
    
    "Save me but you won't help me, huh, Franco?" was the scathing reply.
    His eyes narrowed.  He knew what Zuko was about.  "Get me Fraser or Turnbull
    or my prince.  Or Tom. Don't waste my time.  Get someone in here that
    gives a damn.  I wouldn't ask you to dirty your hands by actually touching
    me." 
    
     Zuko glared.  Calhoun just returned it measure for measure. 
    
    "I'll get someone," he muttered, and left. 
    
    He got Tom. The psychic entered the darkened bedroom, carrying the thermos
    close to him. Calhoun felt the bed shift and opened his eyes again. His
    anger at Zuko dripped away at the sight of his lover. "Hey..." 
    
    Tom smiled, his body still aching from the flash and from the baby's
    protests. He popped open the thermos, helping James sit up. "Come on...drink..."
    
    James gulped it down gratefully. It was disgusting. Vampire blood always
    was. It felt wrong but it felt right at the same time. It was making
    him better, he could tell that, but it was difficult to swallow. 
    
    Tom seemed to sense his nausea. The thermos was taken away, replaced
    by a wrist. "Tom...." He closed his eyes, breathing in the smell of his
    lover. He couldn't stop himself. He heard Tom's slight moan as fangs
    dug into flesh. He wouldn't take too much. 
    
    When it was done, they lay against each other. They both felt weak. Tom
    still had not closed the mental connection and Calhoun was beginning
    to find that was a good thing. He sighed deeply. "I love you. Kinky."
    
    Tom smiled against Calhoun's hair.  "Go to sleep." 
    
    "Mmmhmm." He thought for a moment. "The baby..." 
    
    "Yours. And Marianne's. Not mine.  It's a long story.  I'll tell you
    when you wake up later."  
    
    "Sophia?" 
    
    "Misses her father," he answered, pressing another kiss to the vampire's
    ear. 
    
    Calhoun smiled faintly.  "I want her to be christened, Tom." 
    
    He was too weary and caught up in his own problems to notice Tom's hesitation.
    
    "I want her to have your last name." 
    
    Calhoun grunted. They'd talk about that later. 
    
    Much later.
    
    *** 
    
    Faith sat on the couch, rubbing her arms and looking at the floor. She
    felt Kowalski's eyes on her and shivered. She looked up. "What?" 
    
    "What what?" he asked, staring back at her. 
    
    "Why are you looking at me?" 
    
    He snorted. "Just wondering when you'll snap." 
    
    "You always this pleasant, Detective?" 
    
    "You always try to break up happy couples?" he shot back, already tired
    of this conversation.  He grabbed his coat.  "Dief!  Hey, yo, wolfie!
    No, over here.  C'mon, kiddo, let's go walkies." 
    
    Despite herself, Faith said, "Fraser said you shouldn't go out alone."
    
    He glared, offended for Dief's sake.  "I'm not." 
    
    "Fine. Don't say I didn't warn ya." As he left, she turned back towards
    the fireplace. If Xander had been there, he would've noticed the tears
    in her eyes. 
    
    *** 
    
    Fraser looked all over the house for Ray. He wasn't in the kitchen. The
    bathrooms. The bedroom. Nowhere. He frowned, finally turning to Turnbull
    for help. "I can't find Ray." 
    
    The Seeker looked worried. "Perhaps he's just taken Dief for a walk..."
    
    "I asked him not to go out alone..." 
    
    Faith cleared her throat. "He wouldn't listen to me. He went out." She
    looked miserable and for once Fraser didn't care.  He stared at her aghast
    for a moment then ran out. 
    
    *** 
    
    Adolph soared over the city, having dropped Spike on some street near
    the 13th upon his arrival. It felt good to fly. Felt good to be back
    home. He'd find his father and... 
    
    What was this? 
    
    The Prince Kowalski. 
    
    Adolph smiled to himself, and swooped down for a closer look.  It was
    the prince and his so-called son, the werewolf.  Adolph smiled to himself.
    He could not pass up such an opportunity.  
    *** 
    
    Ray watched Dief explore the sidewalks, looking for god knew what as
    he scurried around sniffing at everything.  He looked to the sky but
    the stars were drowned out by the city lights.  It all seemed so normal.
    Was the world really gone?  Wyrm was keeping them blissfully ignorant,
    somehow maintaining this facade.  How could have not noticed?  And what
    would happen to the rest of the city once the cracks in the terrarium
    burst apart? 
    
    He saw Dief tense.  Either he'd found something that passed in his book
    as edible or something was up.  Ray followed the boy's gaze upwards.
    A silhouette against the sky.  He recognized it instantly. 
    
    Adolph. 
    
    /Shit./ 
    
    "Dief!" he called, trying to get the werewolf's attention.  Dief didn't
    here him, growling and bristling as he morphed once more into a wolf.
    He backed up until his back bumped into the wall of a building.  "Dief!"
    
    The wolf glanced his way as if to make certain Ray saw the demon, too.
    He trotted over to his other human. 
    
    "Come on." 
    
    Ray hurried along the street.  There was an alley they could cut through
    to get back to Warfield's faster.  Alert to every sound and shadow, Ray
    glanced back to be sure Adolph hadn't moved from his perch before hustling
    Diefenbaker into the alley. 
    
    /Christ, get us back.../ 
    
    Suddenly Diefenbaker growled, deep and dangerous, and a great weight
    came crashing down upon Ray's back.  He was slammed to the ground, trying
    to twist away as the demon wrapped his tail around Ray's throat. 
    
    Dief lunged but Adolph spun away, using Ray as a shield.  He was not
    used to being undead yet and the pressure on his larynx panicked him.
    He dug at the tail, struggling. 
    
    Then pain erupted in his head.  Pain, a hot, burning feeling radiating
    from his ear as Adolph bit him.  Ray let out a cry, desperately clawing
    at the demon's leathery hide. 
    
    Dief lunged again, only this time he was successful in loosening Adolph
    from his other human. He tried biting, but the rotten one's hide was
    too tough even for his teeth. 
    
    Adolph laughed as Ray tried to get to his feet and shrugged the werewolf
    off. 
    
    "Not much of a vampire, are you, Prince Kowalski?" he mocked. 
    
    Ray was grimacing, clutching his head.  It wasn't healing.  It should
    be healing already.  What the hell...? 
    
    Abruptly, Adolph frowned.  Something was not right.  Something...burned.
    He glared at Kowalski, knowing whatever was wrong emanated from him.
    
    "Dief, run!" ordered Ray.  He seized the werewolf's fuzzy snout and swung
    him around so Dief could read his lips.  "Home!  Fraser!" he ordered
    then shoved him away.  Blood was soaking his jacket.  The smell was sickening.
    He didn't even know if Dief obeyed. 
    
    Nausea gripped both vampire and demon.  Adolph wiped at the blood on
    his mouth, frowning more when the smeared liquid burned his flesh. 
    
    "What the hell are you?" demanded Adolph.  "Sabbat like my whore father's
    lover?" 
    
    Ray drew his gun.  Armor-piercing bullets would have served him better
    than silver right now.  "I'm a Caanite, ya little shit!" 
    
    "Damn your Caanite blood and damn you to hell!  What have you done to
    me, ghoulite?"  He landed on the ground a few feet from Ray.  The detective
    opened fire, hearing bullets ricochet off the demon's hide as Adolph
    lunged at him, one clawed hand raised. 
    
    "Damn you to the Pit of Hell, Caanite!" screamed the demon, smashing
    him across the face. 
    
    The blow was stunning, amazingly powerful.  Ray was thrown back.  Falling.
    He was falling into blackness. 
    
    Forever. 
    
    *** 
    
    


End file.
